


In June, I Change My Tune

by KryOnBlock



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aviar/harpy hybrid Phil, DreamSMP - Freeform, Eret (Video Blogging RPF) - centric, Eret deserves better, Eret is dethroned, Eret is not human, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Technoblade, References to SMP Earth, Run Away, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Traitor Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Uneasy Allies to Friends to Best Friends :D, Wither/Ender hybrid Eret, cottagecore vibes, eret is tired, eret used they for themself everyone uses he or she for them, everyone after Phil is only mentioned, not beta read we die like Tubbo in the Festival, not misgendering tho, post november 16th, tags are a mess, they regret it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryOnBlock/pseuds/KryOnBlock
Summary: “Promise you’ll have my back?”“Anyday Fundy”Eret just stood there, watching the now empty place for a few minutes, the whole world silent.They breathed out, in, out. Closed their eyes and turned around, tracing their steps back, willing themself to not cry.It was fine, they were used to being alone after all.---------Powerless, dethroned, without any country or friends, Eret decides they had enough, and run away.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Eret, Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 393
Kudos: 1371





	1. In July, Far Off I Fly

**Author's Note:**

> Title cames from the Cuckoo Song, by Cosmo Sheldrake.  
> Also small clarification: Eret uses they/them in their POV, but everyone uses he/she for them. This is NOT misgendering, it is just that Eret uses any pronouns but when referring to themself they prefer they/them. 
> 
> This was solely inspired bc i saw in my youtube reccomended a cottagecore eret and I was too weak to resist lol

He’s lost everything.

Eret stands their ground, red jacket tight against their chest, the golden buttons glinting in the lights of the torches, sunglasses fixed firmly in their face as they stare at the people in front of them. They stare, unblinking behind the black glasses, as Dream continues to spout fables of honour, the netherite axe swirling in his hands. As much as the shapeshifter claims this meeting was to not have blood shed over the floor, Eret knows what the admin will try, so he fixes their stand, crosses their arms, and stares at the white smile.

Eret’s gaze wanders, and fixates on George, a lazy smile on their face as they see the brit bristle and tense, the hand tightening it’s hold over the axe it had. They know they unnerve him, and a part of them crows, dark and satisfied, _Good. They should be_ **_terrified_ **

They mentally chastise that voice, and shove into the back, flexing black fingers in and out of a fist, as they breath in, the scent of his castle calming him down, the sight of the flamingos, covered in the comforting smell of berries and bread that Fundy carries around him, the sharp mint that surrounded the shapeshifter around, the tangy smell of iron. They breathe it in, and out, slowly, calming down, relaxing; because all of this is as much of a show of dominance as of control, and Eret isn't planning on failing now.

As if sensing his friends discomfort, Dream steps in, hands held loosely against his sides “Alright Eret, I’m gonna need you to take the crown off”

Eret just arches an eyebrow, and only takes off their netherite helmet, holding it against their side, and fixing the crown on their head. They continue to stare, enjoying how Callahan fidgets in the background at how mechanical their movements are, the deer clearly unnerved.

“I need you to take the crown and sunglasses off Eret, at least in the castle”

“I won’t reveal my eyes” They state, satisfied at the flinch they receive from Punz at their low voice.

“Take the crown off, at least”

“I can’t” 

“Can’t?” Dream steps once again, and Oh, _now_ the shapeshifter is getting piss off, huh? “Or won’t?”

Eret just adjusted their posture, rising to their full mortal height, and just stared at what most people call the most terrifying Player alive.

“We are four people, I’m not asking you” Dream rises to the challenge, every bit of the hunter and Admin that he is. Punz nods, calling for them to take their crown off, hiding behind the leader, just making Eret scoff at the supposed bravery.

Silence reigns in the room, George looking so confused, Eret almost feels bad for him. Keyword: _Almost._

“I can’t do it”

“Alright, you are doing it the easy or hard way, but you are doing it” The other surrounds them, but Eret stands their ground. They won’t fight them, not if they don’t want to suffer the consequences.

There _is_ a reason Eret was never at the frontlines of any conflict on the server so far.

“Alright George, just so you know” Dream calls at his friend, seemingly tired of the endless confusion the sleepy brunette carries everywhere “Eret betrayed DreamSMP and decided to side with, uh, Pogtopia in the war and help them with their, uh, _naughty_ behaviour” 

The shapeshifter practically spits the words, as if grasping for anything to call the conflict. Eret just smirks and rolls their eyes, leaning against the wall as he watches them in silence.

“Even, even! The only thing I advised him was to stay neutral, not even support our side, but like, stay neutral as it is his duty as a king… But, he didn’t listen”

“Do **not** preach to me about being neutral Admin, do not be so bold” They say, enjoying the small flinch the green shape gave them. As much as Dream prides himself in being fearless, Eret has always managed to make him flinch.

“Eret!” George reproaches them, and they just shrug, leaning against the wall “Are you just gonna stand there?”

They stay silent.

“Just… Just take the crown off, you can put it back on outside the castle but here? Inside? Off with it”

Frustrated with their silence, Dream throws his hands in the air, seemingly done with them, and just waves Punz, telling him to escort them out of the castle, while he turns around and guides George to the throne. The blonde grimaces, but raises his axe and Eret just stands, brushes his pants, and leaves, dignified, with their head held high, as they stride out of the castle they built with their own bare hands.

Once outside, Eret turns on the wooden bridge and looks at their build, the stone brick walls high, the multicolor flags waving in the sky, the statue Bad built of them on the top, with some flamingos thrown around. It makes something in their throat tighten, but they stay there, on the wooden path, ignoring the struggling Punz that tries to move them as they stare at Dream and George, the shapeshifter holding a golden crown on his hands.

“Congratulations George! This whole castle is yours!” 

“Im the king?”

“You’re the king!” Dream exclaims, throwing an arm over his shoulder and sneering at Eret, who just stays there as they see what’s left of them be ripped out of their hands.

They leave, hearing the exclamations of congratulations behind their back as they leave their safe place. It makes them tighten their fists, black nails digging into his palms. It feels wrong, to leave, to turn their back, but what else can they do? The DreamSMP kingdom only answers to Dream, and while they may have respected their rulership over them, they wouldn’t follow Eret. 

Was he truly a king, then? Did they ever respect their power, their rule, their throne? Or did the citizens just nod and continue on with their lives, prefering to trust what Dream had elected than what Eret did for the kingdom? All those countless nights, grinding and checking everyone, making deals with L’manberg, with Manberg, concentrating in helping farms and making sure no one would go hungry… Were they for nothing, in the end? Just a waste of time, a waste of resources, spent on people that never truly accepted them?

They can hear them laughing, mocking the flamingos Fundy had built all over the castle, and they hurry their pace, almost desperate to leave. It is not until they are practically in front of Manberg that they stop, pausing and watching the city down below. The winds flow around them, musing their hair, and they sigh, practically collapsing on the small hill, staring out as he tries to think what to do now. They pick nervously at their shirt under the chestplate, sharp claws taking care to not rip the cloth in their hands, as they try to focus on what to do, mind going a mile per hour.

They were dethroned. Forsaken. Power stolen from their own hands in front of their eyes.

The only thing they had left, the only thing that had been worth it… It was gone. They took the crown off and stared at it, fingers tracing the glittering gems as they thought. They had been dethroned, stripped from power, castle stolen and given to the new king without a single worry about them. The last thing they had built on this server, the last thing that denoted their existence in this world… Gone, now the possession of a man who had never bled while building an empire, brick by brick. 

Something snarls inside them, angry and hurt, demanding retribution, throwing itself against the bars that are Eret self-control, clawing in a desperate attempt to make them pay attention. The creature inside them growls and howls and cries, hollow by the loss of the last thing that tied them into this server.

Was it even worth it in the end? Betray their own family, for a power that would never be theirs to keep? Everything taken, everything they had ever built, destroyed, taken from them, in almost a mockery of what had once happened in a dark room. The walls broken down, the trees he painstakingly planted torn down, everything they had ever done destroyed in front of their eyes.

The grass wilts around them as they claw into it, closing their eyes and wishing desperately for the tears to not fall down, hiccuping as they try to breath past the stone lodged on their throat.

After giving themself a few moments to calm down, they breathe in…. out. They stand, put the helmet and crown back on, and stand proud. They were committed now, and with a brisk pace, they walked into Manberg, opening their communicator and quickly joining Pogtopia’s call. 

They cannot stress about this right now, they had other worries. Maybe later, they would give themself a time to grieve, for all they had lost and all they had sacrificed in vain. For now, well...

They had a revolution to help now.

  
  


* * *

After everything is said and done, the neighbouring country exploded, the tyrant dead and Withers already dead, Eret stares at their communicator, hearing everyone talk around them, practically mocking them, talks of alliances, of secrets, of murder, of loyalty thrown in the air as if they were nothing worth to even take care of. 

They hear George’s laughter, crowing how much he wants to be king and how much he will enjoy it; Ant and Bad hushed conversation as they discuss who to offer allianceship, while Dream and Sam have a pissing contest, throwing around statements as if to show who’s better, nobody caring about the hunched hybrid in the middle, ignored and shunned.

It stings, a lot.

But Eret has lived a long time, and so, they smile and leave silently, netherite clicking against the oak wood as they stride down, leaving everyone behind. They stare at their castle (Or George’s castle? Would he even care? The derision in the brits voice when referring to their build made them think otherwise, but they doubted they would simply let Eret continue to live on peacefully there, the brunette had clearly show distaste around them, and Eret wasn’t keen on trying their luck on staying in a human’s good side again), and throwing a quick glance around, they snuck in, netherite pick glowing in hand as they approached the throne room.

All the flamingos are practically gone, and it makes something ache inside of them greatly, and the castle looks so empty… so dead… Eret can almost not recognize it. They stare at the golden throne, tool in hand, and almost without thinking they tear into it, destroying it. The hybrid methodically tears it down, picking each block and material, hiding them into their inventory, a beast inside of them purring satisfied at the petty revenge. Once finished they pant, looking at the empty room, and laugh, a dark, anguished sound.

Eret is _so_ tired.

They have sacrificed so much, regretted so much… And for what, one could ask? Was it worth it, anything they did, was it worth it? When the fruits of their labors are stolen, broken, torn down into dust, when they are discarded without a second thought, when no one **cares?!** It makes them feel as if they are young again, barely out of teenage hood and stumbling into the wide Hub on their own, innocent at what could await, at what would happen, at how much they would suffer. They had thought this server, these people, were their safe haven, their safe space, finally a place where they would not feel isolated, where they would not have to fight to survive, to fight every second they are alive.

…

They cannot stay.

Not anymore, they think, as the revelation comes to them. They cannot stay here, any longer. DreamSMP was good but never perfect, and they doubt it would ever feel the same, not after tonight.

They go outside and climb into their bedroom, taking a backpack and quickly throwing in as much clothes and riches they can, making sure to bring everything they consider valuable, knowing that once George returns with Dream to the castle, they probably wouldn’t let Eret back in. They are so tired, a bone aching fatigue set deep into their body, but they continue on, making sure to take as much as they can.

Once done, they go into the office and stare at the desk, overflowing with papers of important trades, of alliances, of meetings, of everything Eret has spent so much time on, determined to make the DreamSMP kingdom better than it ever was.

George wants to be king?

  
“He can have it” Eret whispers into the night, taking the papers into their hands, and throwing them around “He can have the damn title, I’m done with this”

They take their mini calendar, filled to the brim with important dates, and get down, smiling a sharp smile at the returning new King. They have a backpack thrown over their shoulder, as they practically shove the calendar into George’s chest, smile widening at the tumble the brunette takes.

“Here, since you want to be king” Eret laughs, throwing a wave and continuing on, black hands with the sharp claws out, making more than one pale.

“What's this?!” George calls, bewildered, as Dream puts a hand on his shoulder and stares at the once-king. “Eret, I demand that you answer me!”

“Have fun with the responsibilities, Prime knows I never did!” They call, laughing, and running into the night, enjoying the protests they leave behind.

They laugh, freer than they have been in a while, as they run and hide in the forest, hiding giggles as they climb a tree and accommodate into the branches, tired and ready to just fall asleep. They put the backpack behind their head and curl around it, for once glad of how they can fit into almost any spaces they need. Only once or twice they have to stay silent, breath paused, as they hear people passing under them, but soon they relax, claws deep into the bark to not let themself fall during the night.

They wake up late, the sun so far into the sky, Eret’s surprised there isn’t a sunset in the horizon. They dig their claws out, stretching and enjoying the small peace for a moment, blinking the sleep out of their eyes. They can’t remember falling asleep, but they don’t fret about it, instead climbing the tree and sitting in the highest branch, closing their eyes and enjoying the warm sun on their face. 

It felt… Peaceful. 

They were calm, refreshed, something that they almost can’t remember having in the past month. The end of an era of terror does that to people, they think bitterly, lounging for some more minutes in the sun like an overgrown cat. It almost feels fake, this peace, this tranquility there is in the air, having grown accustomed to the constant paranoia of something creeping behind their back.

They jump down the tree, once satisfied with their lounging and quickly shrug off the red cape and jacket, leaving the items hanging from the branch, not feeling that they should walk into the new country while dressed as the enemy’s ruler ( _that he no longer is_ , a voice hisses in their mind, but they ignore it). Picking up their backpack, they start the path towards Manberg. Or maybe, L’manburg? Eret isn’t sure what name to call this new rising country, but whatever name it has, Eret will answer to. 

Their breath catches when they get to the top of the hill, looking down on what yesterday (Was it yesterday? They’re sure they only slept for a day, but right now, doubts fill their mind) was a crater. Wooden platforms sprouted from the ground, the water all gone, leaving only stone behind. There are the beginnings of houses all around, log beams denoting where everything will go. It looks so different, that it truly dawns on Eret that they are seeing the true rise of a new country.

With a skip to their step, they go down, gazing around in wonder as they watch everyone working together in the new builds. They look around for Tubbo and Tommy, knowing the duo were the best people he could ask, since they are the new leaders of this place. But as they walk more and more into the center of everything, more and more their steps hesitate. They can feel stares burning into them, people stopping to stare at them in clear distrust.

It hurts, and some part of Eret wants to scream at them, to ask them if they hadn’t been fighting side by side yesterday, if that hadn’t meant anything. Shoulders slowly hunching up, they continue on, face brightening when they spot the teenagers, deep in discussion in some spruce platform. They wave at them, a tentative smile as they see Tubbo turn and wave back.

“Hey Eret! What brings you to New L’manberg?” The newly appointed president asked him, stance wide and relaxed, as friendly as a bumblebee. Tommy is just a step behind Tubbo, face blank, but they don’t let that intimidate them.

“Hey Tubbo, I wanted to see how it is going here. You sure work fast!” Eret said, admiring the new structures around.

“Thanks! It’s only been 2 days, but we want to finish the reconstruction as soon as possible. We were just discussing where we should start the constructions of the water systems and wells for the new houses”

Eret nodded, attentive, and peered at the map Tubbo was holding, looking it over. “The places marked are where you are planning right?”

The teenager nodded, ignoring his best friend, who now was glaring at the once-king.

“Hmm, you should probably focus around here” They pointed at the section of the map where solid terrain was “And here, it’s a little too close but it would be in a stable terrain and in any case of something going wrong, plenty of people would be around to help”

“Oh, Eret that’s genius!” Tubbo quickly scribbled something down, before pausing and turning to look back at them “Do you need anything, Eret? I mean, I’m pretty sure we will need some ambassadors soon to send to DreamSMP but for now we are all focused on reconstruction so that would have to wait”

“Oh no” Eret shook their head, summoning courage to finally ask what they had come to “I was just wondering if there was any sp-”

“Tubbo, can we leave now?” Tommy interrupted them, tugging at the sleeve of his friend.

“Tommy, don’t be rude! Let’s hear what Eret needs”

“Who cares? We shouldn’t even give our attention to that traitor” Eret took a step back, but quickly recomposed themself, the smile a little more fragile.

“Hey, I fought with you—”

“And!? Least thing you could do when all of this is your fault!” Tommy yelled, causing everyone to go quiet in the general area around them “If you hadn’t betrayed us nothing would have happened, we would have been happy, Schlatt wouldn’t have been elected and Wilbur wouldn’t have exploded my home!”

“Tommy…”

“Shut up! I don’t care! You are the cause my brother is DEAD!” Tommy paused, rubbing away the tears, before taking Tubbo by the sleeve and dragging him away “Let’s go Tubbo, there’s nothing here”

The teenager just waved goodbye to Eret, following Tommy and leaving them behind. Eret looked around, lost and ill-footed. Niki just frowned, and turned around, disappearing behind some spruce beams, everyone else slowly leaving as well. They stared at Fundy, the Fox Player standing frozen in the middle, tail twitching and looking desperately as if he wanted to go towards them. 

Something called the fox’s attention away, and hesitant, Fundy left too, without any look back, abandoning Eret.

~~_“Promise you’ll have my back?”_ ~~

~~_“Anyday Fundy”_ ~~

  
  


Eret just stood there, watching the now empty place for a few minutes, the whole world silent. 

They breathed out, in, out. Closed their eyes and turned around, tracing their steps back, willing themself to not cry.

It was fine, they were used to being alone after all.

  
  
  


* * *

Finding a group of wild horses at the edges of the two neighbouring territories, Eret stopped and took a rest, feet aching from how long they had been walking. Soon after the confrontation, they had left, not willing to stay more than the necessary on the territory. They would probably be jailed if found on the DreamSMP, and New L’manburg had shown their distaste, and they doubted the Badlands would let them stay when they didn’t have any power to offer.

They sat down, hidden in the small clearing of the forest that existed at the edges of the territories, tired and so, so weary. They had to figure something out, what to do now, what to plan. They were, practically, flying blind. They could go hide in Pogtopia, but they were pretty sure that zone had been annexed to L’Manburg, and Eret was not keen on seeing the others again.

They tried to think of someone, of anyone, that could help, and came up blank. They had no one, absolutely no one, that would be willing to help a traitor like them. They were alone, once again, in the server they had sworn it would be different.

They looked up to the sky, sighing, trying to think of something. They could try to leave the server, but they doubted they would be allowed to leave, and if they left, surely someone would follow them… And they doubted it would be with good intentions.

It felt weird to be like this, once again, on a different server. They stared at the black hands, the sharp claws, the reflection of their white eyes and thought if maybe, they were in the end the cause of everything as Tommy had said. Maybe it was true, maybe they were truly cursed to wander, alone, forever an enemy of everyone, no matter what. Withers and Enderman were not good mobs, destruction and power the only thing the monsters cared about. Was it a curse, this ancestry they had, the power that flowed through their veins? 

How much would it take, how much it would cost, until they were truly free from it?

They had bled for so long, sacrificed so much, for any semblance of peace, which would be taken away at any second, leaving them powerless and lonely once again. If they left this world, this server, would it happen again? Would it follow once again, destruction and chaos chasing their steps, infecting everything they touched?

The grass underneath them wilted and died, under the graze of their claws, and wasn’t it ironic? No matter what they tried, they would always end up destroying what they touched.

“Shit” They whispered, voice trembling, as they brought a hand up and tried to stop the flow of tears that could no longer be contained. Black liquid seeps from their eyes, dark ichor staining their clothes and everything, burning away life “What am I meant to do now?”

The sound of their communicator surprised them, and they turned to stare at it, the black grey rectangle vibrating with new messages. A trembling finger turned it on, hope rising and dying instantly, as they watched only messages of the general chat appear, from maybe yesterday they thought, as the messages were about the invasion (maybe he had forgotten to turn it on? He shrugged mentally). No one had contacted them, and they didn’t know why they had hoped otherwise, when earlier everyone had made their distaste clear.

_We could run away_ , the dark voice inside of them whispered, _we could just go away, hide in a corner of the world, and try to leave peacefully, with no more fights, no more people to hurt us_

And…

And they could. They could leave, go to the extremes of the world and just… live there, no people around to hurt them anymore, finally achieving the peace they sought so much. Wasn’t that a good idea? They didn’t have the power to build a new world for them alone, nor did they have any contact with any powerful Admin that could help ( _at least, not anymore)_ and their only options were to just join a public server and hope for the best.

They didn’t want to leave, not truly, having grown used to the soothing voice of this universe, the universal lullaby of creation, a permanent fixture for their life here. They weren’t ready to give that up, and maybe, a small part of them hoped that perhaps their friends would come back. 

Decision made, they nodded and sat up, searching in their backpack and humming in victory at the saddle they found. Thanking their past self, they took an apple out and approached the wild horse, ready to take their first steps into a new life.

After long hours, where they spent a lot of time face down in the dirt after the horse had kicked them off, Eret found themself riding the mare triumphantly, the palomino animal just huffing softly, accepting the saddle with such grace, Eret doubted for a moment it was a truly wild being. Satisfied, they picked everything up and rode out, starting their journey.

They rode for days, only stopping for a few hours to let the horse, which they had nicknamed “Mingo”. On one of those stops, Eret checked their communicator, grimacing after noticing that the only message they had was from Dream , a private one, telling them to _“watch himself”_. It probably was sent after Eret had called Technoblade to kill George, but with how bad the reception and how far away from spawn they were, the message had only now been loaded and sent. 

Frowning, they held the communicator in their hands. Running away would only work as long as no one would be able to find them without them giving away the information willingly; only one person could possibly discover where they were, and that was exactly the person they didn’t want to find them, Dream. What would they do so the Admin couldn’t find them? Dream had Admin Powers, and Eret was a little afraid of how it would be to be in the receiving end of them. They stared at the little screen, willing themselves to try and think of something to do, when, while turning the communicator around, a memory came to mind.

_“Thank you so much Fundy, I really didn’t know what to do” Eret had laughed, embarrassed, as Fundy tinkled around with their communicator. “I can’t even remember when it broke!”_

_“Good thing you came to me, a broken comn is too important to leave like that” Fundy carefully pried it open, picking it apart slowly with his sharp claws “You’re lucky, the power button and wave-receiver are only jammed up. Here, see”_

_Eret looked, the mesh of wires and buttons almost too confusing for them._

_“This” Fundy pointed at a red blinking button “Is the button that broadcast your position to the code of the server, the black one besides it is the one that lets you receive the messages and that tiny grey one is the power one”_

_“Hmmm, shouldn’t the location one be deactivated since we are at war with them?”_

_“I mean, we could? But normally Admins never use them, since it's a long process to track a signal. Plus, they are super connected to the wave-length so if we messed with it, the comns could stop receiving the messages instantly. But in case you want to know, the tracker is easily disconnected you just take off this cable” Fundy pointed at a red gold wire that went into the board, connecting the tracker “And just tug twice, after that the tracker can be taken out and it would be inactive”_

_“How do you know so much about this man?” Eret had laughed, watching the fox fiddle with the buttons until he nodded satisfied_

_“I like knowing what makes something work, I play with mechanics not too dissimilar to this on my own worlds” Fundy had smiled, sharp little canines shaped into a gentle smile. “We could go there someday, and I could show you some of the things I’ve made”_

_“After the war, absolutely”_

Eret blinked, dispersing the memory away, and with renewed effort, pried the communicator open, grinning as they disconnected the tracker. Taking the button out, they held it on their hands and concentrated, smiling as the wither effect took hold and the button curled inwards, rusting rapidly.

There, now the Admin wouldn’t be able to follow.

Standing up, they closed the comns and put it in their pocket, letting the tracker fall into the ground, and dust off their pants, ignoring the remnants of the memory on his head. No matter, it’s all too late now, and there is no reason to dwell on the past. They sigh and take out half a loaf of bread, deciding to take a lunch break before continuing on. 

Mingo neighs at them, nudging their shoulder, and Eret laughs, free and loose, giving the mare a tiny part of the bread, patting her head, and brushing the mane out of her eyes. They are in a giant spruce forest, the trees towering above them, podzol under their feet, as the harsh midday sun is hidden by the leaves. They are easily two weeks away from the main SMP, but Eret wants to travel a few more days, afraid of being too close still. 

They breath in the scent of the forest, the relaxing scent of podzol permeating everything, berries around, foxes yipping in the distance. Eret could stay here, hidden in the inmersity of the forest, just a speck in the grand plan of things, satisfied and at peace. It is tempting, but Eret is paranoid, and does not trust so easily, so after half an hour, they get back on the saddle and guide Mingo away, into the wilderness of the unexplored server.

They ride for two weeks more, deep into the mountains, evading deserts and the mesa, until finally, they reach a spruce village. Mingo refuses to move any further, even going as far as to throw Eret off the saddle when they try to make her move, so the hybrid sighs and just attaches a lead to the horse, slowly guiding her into the village. After inquiring with some of the villagers, Eret is guided to an abandoned house, made of logs and spruce and so old, they are surprised it is still standing. It is the only free place, and so Eret accepts, taking out his netherite axe and starts planning.

They spend the two first days just chopping trees down, and using Mingo to transport all the logs back to the house. Once they are satisfied with how much they have, they throw themselves into building, creating supports for the crumbling walls, replacing the wood that has been eaten away by the weather, creating a fireplace and furnishing the whole place. They also create a tiny stable just right besides the house for Mingo, making sure to cover the whole place in hay for the poor mare, stocking up on wheat they trade with the villagers. In a feat of nostalgia, Eret places down a sign in front of the cottage, a tiny bear carved into it, the word _Ursus_ underneath of it.

The house, now a small cottage, is perfect. 

They stare at the walls, at the roof, the organized chests and finally, just finally, Eret can breathe in peace. They leave the armour hidden in the chest, a reminder of a time now past, and they throw themself into the village, helping around in whatever they can, helping in the farms and using Mingo to help collect the harvest.

Soon enough, Eret is just another person of the village, known for always helping around, the cottage soon a fixture of it. The armorer always waved at them whenever they pass by, the children stop by their cottage to ask for sugar or eggs, from the chickens Eret managed to wrangle into a scoop they built a month in the village. There are two chickens, one white called Mary and a tiny black and white speckled that Eret affectionately calls Dalmata. 

They feel so included, most mornings Eret stays in bed wondering if this is real, if this is not a dream. They can laugh freely, joke and no one would chastise, would glare, would stare. Eret can show their white glowing eyes, and the most someone will say is ask if they do indeed glow in the dark. No one bats an eye when they accidentally wither something, at the black hands, the claws, the tiny black scales that climb up their neck like freckles. Nobody stares, the villagers just welcomed them with open arms and made them a part of the village without a second thought.

It feels… nice. It makes Eret feel normal.

“Why?” They ask one of the farmers while taking a break “Why aren’t any of you afraid of me? I doubt you don’t recognize I’m a hybrid”

The farmer had stared at them, wheat being bundled in his hands, and sighed, taking off his straw hat and looking so serious at Eret, they for a moment feared _this was it,_ they thought, _the moment I get thrown out._

“You haven’t done anything to make us think bad of you. You help around the village, you apologize when you accidentally destroy something, you help take care of the children…” The farmer’s face was so full of care and sadness, it made something in Eret’s chest hurt “Is it so strange that we would think good of you? Is it so strange that we care?”

The farmer then turned around, and continued bundling up the wheat together. They spent the afternoon in silence, finishing the work around the farms, but now, something felt okay. If Eret teared up at any moment, the farmer didn’t say anything. At the end of the day, the hybrid was left with a basket full of wheat and carrots, and a promise to see them tomorrow, heart lighter than it had been in years.

When autumn rolls around, Eret is so comfortable in the village, they walk around in short sleeves and without sunglasses, crown and cape stored deep in the chests, only gathering dust. They get gifted a bunch of pumpkins for their contributions on the farms, and they spend a whole day baking pies, distributing them among everyone, joining in the late parties and getting invited to dinner with some of the families.

The butcher invites the most of them all, teaching Eret how to cook and bake, half forgotten memories of summer afternoon on Niki’s bakeries coming to mind with intensity. The first time Eret bakes bread, they end up crying late at night, heartache lodged into their chest as they weep and mourn for what they once had, the butcher just standing next to them, a comforting hand on their shoulders as they cried. When some kids give them a basket of berries, Eret spends the whole afternoon remembering Fundy, wishing so strongly for their friend to be here, that their friends hadn’t abandoned them. They mourn, for what they lost, but quickly continue onwards, not letting the past take this golden opportunity out of their hands.

They instead throw themself with renewed vigor into interacting with the village, learning with the shepherd how to work with a loom, picking the best trick in how to sharpen an axe with the toolsmith, helping with the arrow production for the patrols with the fletcher, helping the fishermen bring the catches from the nearby lake. They learn the villagers' faces, their names, their families, and slowly, very slowly, they recover from their heartache, filling in the blanks with laughter and new memories. They become a jack of all trades, learning a bit from everyone who needs a hand, until they have learnt everything they need to know.

They sometimes go out with the toolsmith, going into the nearby caves and coming back with arms full of iron and materials for construction; they help heal the golems around the village, teaching the children how to care for the poppies and daisies growing around the gentle giants. 

They sleep soundly every night, so at home like they never had before.

When winter comes around, the whole biome is submerged in snow, everyone staying in their houses, only going out in the early mornings to trade whatever they need before going back into their house. Eret spends the winter sewing, making themself new clothes, long skirts, white shirts, blue overalls, anything they can imagine. They bake until their arms practically collapse, make jams and wines from the berries they stored, do anything they can to stave off boredom, reading at the light of the lanterns the books they borrowed, enjoying the peace. Today there is a big blizzard outside, the snow practically impeding anyone from getting out, so Eret puts on their most comfortable clothes and lounges around the fireplace, reading and enjoying some tea the shepherd had dropped off yesterday.

They aren’t with their friends, but maybe, they don’t need them anymore. They are finally happy here, without expectations or betrayals to cloud the judgement. There is no DreamSMP, no New L’manburg to worry about. They are finally satisfied... happy they could admit.

That’s when the knocking on the door came in.

Confused, as Eret didn’t think anyone would be outside this late on the night, they stood up, the long fluffy skirt gathering around their legs as they moved towards the door, fuzzy socks covering their footsteps. Opening the door a little, they blink in bewilderment at the figure at the door.

“Uh, heya mate. Can we come in?” The face of a blonde came into focus, a green and white bucket hat covered in snow on their head, as they held a wing over the player besides them, a piglin with a fur so thick, Eret was surprised they could even see.

Unsure, Eret nods and opens the doors, letting the two strangers in. They grimaced a little at the snow that came in, knowing it would be a bitch to clean up later.

“Sorry to disturb this late, my name’s Phil and this is Techno. The snow blizzard caught us off guard while we were out of our bases” The blonde smiled, holding out a hand “I hope there is not too much trouble if you could let us stay in for the night?”

_Oh shit._


	2. In August, Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck? What the actual, sincerally, _fuck_?!? 
> 
> They looked up at the ceiling and prayed for this to be the end.
> 
> Of course it wasn’t.
> 
> \--------
> 
> Or in which Eret gets used to having a neighbour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: Lonely ex-king and now deep in a cottagecore dream wither/enderman hybrid living in the middle of the woods alone wonders why they are lonely, more after 8.

Eret paces around the room, retrieving blankets out of the closet and they try to think what to do. 

They had left the other two in their living, with some food and tea, while they had gone to try and see where they could let the two stay, as an excuse to try to calm their mind. 

They had practically forgotten that Phil had joined, the memories already so far away, Eret had buried them under the new memories of the village. They doubted they had recognized them, since they didn’t have their communicator with them, so their nametag wasn’t showing above their head, and their respawn star was hidden, underneath one of his fuzzy socks, as an ankle bracelet.

Bringing the blankets out, they pad across to the storage room, pulling out some materials and making a crude bed. It wasn’t the best, but Eret really didn’t have anywhere else to put them. Sighing, they put down the blankets, making sure to put the thick wools one over everything, since it was sure to get colder as the night progressed.

Once secure in the knowledge that one of the guests wouldn’t die because of the cold in the middle of the night, Eret carried the extra blankets into the living room, Philza standing up to help them carry the items. 

“Where do you want them?” He asked, hands full of soft pillows and thick wool blankets, and Eret hesitated.

So far, they were sure they hadn’t been recognized because they hadn’t talked. If they talked like normal, then for sure they would be recognized as a player, but they couldn’t not talk. They hadn’t managed to become fully fluent in villager dialect, so they couldn’t pose as a villager… Unless…

“Couch” They nodded towards, and expanded the furniture into a semi bed, the blonde helping them put everything there in order. They bit back a sigh of relief at the lack of recognition their talking got; at least this assured them they did speak a good enough trader. 

Once satisfied, Eret nodded and pointed at their mugs, forcing their mouth to speak Trader to a Player. It was harder than they had originally imagined, their brain seemingly used to only talking normally to players, only switching back into Trader when communicating with villagers. The language was soft, barely spoken, filled with gestures and signs, quite similar to sign language actually. 

Every Player knew intinsctinly Trader, the knowledge spawning with them in the world to let them communicate easily with villagers, since villager dialect was so different and diverse depending on biome, server or even world. Eret thanked their lucky stars that they had spent this last months only speaking Trader, which made them more fluent than a normal Player would be.

“Tea?” They curled their hand upwards, and made a pouring motion, as they stopped in front of the kitchen. 

“Oh, if it isn't any problem?” Phil smiled, while Techno, who was burrowed deep into one of the chairs just grunted, clutching the mug tight against his chest, as if trying to absorb the warmth.

Nodding, Eret brought the kettle and served more tea, making themself a cup too, before leaving the kettle back in the kitchen, sitting down on their own chair and staring at the others.

“What brings you here? Haven’t seen any Players around before” Eret asked, hand curled against their mug, as they rested their back against the plush chair.

“Oh, Techno has a base like half a day away. We didn’t know this place existed, honestly. We confused it with the other village, truth to be told” Eret laughed, nodding as they signaled at Phil to continue the story “He offered to accompany me to some ice peaks a few biomes over, and we got a little confused on the way back”

“Oh, the ice peaks of the south?”

“Yeah, I wanted to check something out there”

Eret nodded sagely, sipping from their tea “I’ll take it then that you were supposed to go to the northern village”

Techno nodded from where he was sitting, and Eret startled a little, having thought the other was asleep.

“Well, you can stay the night, travellers are always welcome here. The bathroom is down that hallway, turning right, there is some more pie if you want to eat. Uh, I only have one guest room, so one of you shall stay here in the living. My room is the last one, if you need anything” And before they can answer back, Eret practically runs away, closing the door so fast, the thump of the wood against wood even startles him.

For extra security, Eret even locks the door and then rests against it, sliding down as their heartbeat goes out of control.

The barely controlled panic tries to rise out, and Eret clamps a hand over their mouth, breathing slowly, trying to calm their racing chest. Here, now hidden from the people who could possibly ruin the delicate peace they finally have achieved, Eret spirals down, hiding their head between their knees as they try to calm down the frantic panic filling their veins.

Why, why, why, why the hell are they here?! They think, desperate, hands instinctively clamping down around the respawn star anklet, the comforting warmth of the tiny star helping them calm down. Almost a year alone, and now, now, the SMP comes knocking on their door, ignoring all they had worked for so far.

It practically makes them hysterical, the fact that one of the most powerful players of the smp is less than a day away from here. They remember Techno, with their trident, soaring through the skies, and think about how the distance is probably nothing for him to cross. Eret normally wouldn’t be afraid of Techno or Phil, but they are pretty sure a bounty is on their heads on the DreamSMP, one of the last messages they had gotten of Dream warning them that if they showed their face around, anyone would be more than happy to bring them to the Admin. 

Nobody has ever shied away from bounties on their heads, and they doubt it will stop now.

At the sound of cracking wood, they jump, startled, and throw their hands in the air, the claws surrounded on a heavy and dark mist, as the birch wood beneath their feet darkens and crumbles. Thankfully, the withering stops soon, and Eret lets a breath of relief out when they see it doesn’t extend into the whole floor. A withered floor would bring without a doubt, recognition to their guests eyes and Eret wasn’t keen on being found out just now.

They are lucky they had put on a sweater, gloves and a long skirt in the morning, as now the majority of their hybrid traits are hidden away, out of sight. Villagers with strange eyes can be explained, villagers with skin mottled with dark shiny scale-like freckles and rising black void on their skin would be harder to wave away as a simple villager. Sure, normal hybrids did exist, but they were very hard to find and they are sure that if they were to be thought of as a hybrid villager, well… they doubt their guest would leave, especially hearing the tales of how far Philza and Techno had gone in search of special and shiny things.

Shuddering, they resolve to try and ignore what is outside their door for now. Standing up, they move towards the bed, soon changing out into the fluffiest pajamas they can find, deciding they deserve the luxury after this very not much wanted visit. They blow out the torch inside the lantern on their bedside, and burrow beneath the thick wool blankets, the smell of home soon lulling them to sleep, as the blizzard rages outside.

* * *

  
  
  


When they wake up, sleepy and confused, it takes them a second to remember what had happened yesterday. With a groan, they slowly get out of bed, only throwing on another sweater, as the chill from outside seems to have sneaked inside. They normally sleep with the door open, the warmth of the dying fireplace warming them through the night, so it is unusually cold for them today. Putting on the softest clothes they can find, they unlock the door and pad outside.

The living is totally silent, a small figure huddled in the couch beneath all the blankets, and Eret grimaces in sympathy when they see the small hooves peeking beneath the layers. They approach the fireplace, and taking up the iron poker, they throw a few logs in the dying embers, reviving the flames. Once satisfied, they step back and close their eyes, enjoying the warmth coming from the fireplace. 

They make their way into the kitchen, slowly filling the kettle from the cauldron in the corner designated for the water. Putting it on the old stove, Eret turned and looked at the kitchen surprised, seeing the clean mugs and dishes already stacked and dry, ready to just store. Opening a nearby chest, they stare at the food they have, wondering what they could eat, when the sound of clicking behind them startles them, turning around so fast, they almost get a whiplash. The piglin is just behind them, still in place as if surprised Eret had startled. 

Eret blinks, before sighing out, bringing a hand up to his racing heart, trying to will themself to calm down. They look to Techno, finally appreciating the other, who they had practically ignored yesterday. Techno’s fur is longer than usual, the baby pink now a more darker one, almost threading into dark red territory. It reminds them of time long gones, of ice empires and erased islands in the middle of the sea, and Eret soon discards the memory, focusing more on the present.

Techno is at the doorstep of the kitchen, shoulders almost hunched, and there is something to seeing someone so powerful in just an undershirt and pants, without those tall boots nor the red cape or even crown. If Eret squints, they can even see a tail slowly moving from side to side behind. Waving him over, Eret deposits the bread and cake on his hands, telling him to leave it on the table, going back to grab the mugs and tea.

Once the table is set, Eret tells the piglin to just start eating, before putting on their snow boots and going outside, to check on Mingo.

Eret breaths in the crisp smell of the morning, snow covering as far as their eyes can see. Slowly trudging through it, they enter the stable, smiling and gently petting the mare, who neighs at them and nudges them, as if asking where her breakfast is. Laughing, Eret deposits some feed in the stable, patting her neck, before proceeding into the coop in the corner, grabbing a small basket from the side, and starting to gather the eggs from Dalmata and Mary, the chickens just peeking at them before going back to sleep, comfortable in between the hay. 

When they get back into the house, brushing off the snow and putting a small rag on the floor where the snow had gathered yesterday and had melted into water overnight, they can already see Phil and Techno in the table, apparently almost finished. Phil greets them warmly, and thanks them once again for letting them stay the night.

“It’s no problem” They say, hands open and relaxed, making a semi-circular gesture around their gesture “Travellers welcome, as I said”

“Even though, thanks mate” Phil laughs, a warm and bright sound, and puts on the bucket hat “We will be going soon, we don’t want to use much more of your day”

Nodding, Eret accompanies them for a moment before bidding them goodbye, waving from their door as the guests trudges through the snow towards the north, deep in conversation. They stay there, at the doorstep, for a moment, until they are sure the others are far enough, before letting out a small squeak, letting their head thump harshly against the door, finally relaxing now that Phil and Techno left.

“This was so fucking stressful, oh Aether, never again” They breath out, eyes closed, as they try to regain their shattered composure “Never fucking again”

The first thing they do is clean the house, gathering the blankets and shoving them as far as they can into the closet, the soft smell of feathers, of fire and brimstone getting buried in the back. Almost manic with energy, Eret cleans around, throwing the windows open despite the cold, desperate to get the smell of the strangers out of their safe space.

Now that the rush of adrenaline is gone, and they had the time to process what happened, their house feels almost… violated. This had been their safe space, the place where nothing of the smp had touched, where they could be without any worries; and the past had come back, dragging them against their will to interact with it. It hurts, it makes them angry and sad, a volatile mixture that leaves them breathless, hands over their eyes as they try not to cry because the storage room now smells so much of feathers, of tea and wind, it feels almost impossible to feel comfortable again. 

The change feels abrupt, unnecessary and unwanted; and Eret has never wanted to cry more than ever, but if they cry then their tears will ruin the floor and they _really, really_ don’t need the extra stress.

After a while, they give it as a lost cause, and decide to leave the whole cottage wide open, windows and door open ajar. Eret leaves, dressed as warm as they can be, going towards the village, in search of anything to distract them. Although a blizzard happened yesterday, there are still some villagers out, going around and talking, trading food and clothes and anything they can need. Eret stumbles into the main street of the village, and almost without thinking, one of the villagers tugs them closer to their group and they soon surround them, worried faces covering them, since it appears the distress is apparent on their face. 

Eret breathes in, the scent of smoke, of steak, of the shepherd’s loom and the blacksmith coal, and finally, finally calms down. They shake their head, when one of the villagers asks something, and so the butcher just nods and puts an arm around their shoulder, and she goes back to talking with the toolsmith about whether an axe was a good tool for cutting meat up. 

They relax, letting the talk wash over them and just enjoying the noise they had grown familiar with, letting the almost humming villager dialect wash over them, not bothering in trying to understand what they are talking about. After some minutes, Eret just stands a little straighter, better now than before. The butcher stops on her conversation, turning around and just cocking her head, a silent question of if they were better now, and Eret smiled gratefully, head half bowed.

“Do you… Um, did you know about the players that passed by yesterday night?” They ask, a little hesitant. The butcher stares, before surprise colours her face and she nods.

“Yeah, not very tall ones right?” Eret snorts at the description but nods “Yeah, saw them pass by. Tried knocking on my door”

“Wha— Really?!”

“Yeah, didn’t open the door. Didn’t want anyone to visit” 

“WH— I ended up stuck with them instead!!” Eret exclaims, pouting as the butcher starts laughing.

“Why did you open the door then?”

“Because I couldn’t leave them outside in the blizzard?? They would freeze to death probably????”

“Good”

Eret sputtered, limbs flailing as the butcher just laughed at them, the shepherd just trying to suppress his laughs unsuccessfully.

It was a good day now.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It’s been some days now, Eret spending the first two just ventilating the house from morning to night, until finally, finally, the scent of fire, feathers, ice and brimstone left their home. The morning is spent is a relaxed daze, Eret just sprawled over the couch, a jukebox in the corner of the room, playing the disc the shepherd’s daughter had gifted them. The soft notes of Far fill the air, and Eret finds themself bobbing their head to the music, as they close their eyes and enjoy the morning, not wanting to get out of the couch just yet.

They let the disc loop three times before sighing, picking it out of the jukebox and stretching, deciding it is as good a time as any to start the day. Grabbing the basket filled to the brim with the bread they had stress-baked yesterday, Eret puts on the snow boots and opens the door, burrowing under their thick scarf as the winter wind hits them in the face with all its might. The path leading to the village is covered in snow, and they groan, putting the basket down in the window ledge, grabbing the iron shovel besides the door and starting the grueling task of shoving all the snow away to clear the path.

It is in the middle of this task when heavy steps sound behind them, turning around Eret startles so bad they let go of their shovel, the tool instantly sinking into the snow, as they take several steps back to avoid the massive horse in front of them. The brown horse is very big, towering so much over Eret it intimidates them; the horse snorts, (almost derisively Eret may add!), at them, the diamond armor clinking with each movement of the massive animal, before it turns sideways, showing Eret the rider.

They shrunk back at the sight of the piglin, armed from hooves to head in dark enchanted netherite armour. The golden rings around his tusk shine brightly in the morning sun, and Eret wishes they had stayed inside and had never even entertained the idea of going outside. They stare at each other in silence for various minutes, each one ticking by and making Eret more nervous as the piglin only stares at them. They shift a little, wondering if they should try and go back inside, when the piglin seemingly startles out of the staring and coughs, awkwardly, before dismounting the horse.

Techno crouches and picks up the shovel that had fallen, gently extending a hand out to let them take the tool back, Eret doing so after a few seconds of hesitation, both hands grabbing tightly the wood handle.

“Are there any librarians in the village?” He asks, gruffly, and Eret fidgets before nodding, nervous, extending a hand out and pointing towards the left of the village, where a cobble chimney can be seen standing out against the wooden roofs. Seemingly satisfied, Techno nods and turns around, taking the reins of the giant horse being and tugging it behind him, making way for the library.

Eret stares, shovel tightly held against their chest, as the piglin trudges through the snow without a worry. After a few seconds, they just turn around, leave the shovel against the wall once again, grab the basket and get inside, deciding to forget any ideas of going out today. They can stay in bed, they decide, firmly ignoring his almost shaking hands, they deserve this at least.

Of course, because the Universe seems to hate them, this is not the end of the interaction, where Eret can go back to pretending they don’t know the piglin passing by.

Once a week, Technoblade will appear, so early in the morning the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, riding in that intimidating brown horse, a messenger bag resting against his hip filled to the brim with books, in direction to the Library. And Eret will see him pass by, later, so late it is almost night, the bag still filled with the normal books, head semi-bowed, the reins of the horse held tightly between his hooves, returning to where his base apparently is.

This continues, for at least a month, Eret looking through their window or standing in the entrance of the house, shovel held tightly in their hands, looking the piglin pass by. 

Their interactions should limit to just that, to the other Player only passing by, riding away and never stopping. But then one day Eret is stressed and melancholic, having spend the whole day stress making way too many bread and cake for even the village to eat without letting the food go to waste, trying to desperately forget the phantom smell of berries and the sound of the bakery in the morning, so when they see Techno riding the horse back, in the late afternoon, Eret stops what they are doing.

They stand up quickly, and grab a basket out of the shelf, putting in as much warm bread and cake they can fit inside, and step out into the cold, only in a long sleeve shirt, scarf and fuzzy pants; running solely in impulsivity and foolish bravery. They wave Techno over, the piglin stopping and staring at them in bewilderment, before approaching carefully. 

“Here!” They exclaim, pushing the basket into the other’s hands, making sure the startled piglin has it grabbed, before letting it go and stepping back, satisfied. Nodding once, they turn and go back to their cottage, closing the door behind them, not even letting the other answer. There is silence, before footsteps start going away. 

A few minutes after, Eret recognized what they did and, grabbing a pillow and slamming their head against it, screamed. 

What the fuck? What the actual, sincerally, _fuck_?!? 

They looked up at the ceiling and prayed for this to be the end.

Of course it wasn’t.

Eret woke up the next morning at the sound of knocking on their door, and stumbling out vision still blurry from sleep, they opened the door, blinking wearily at the figure at the doorstep, covered in snow, who offered them an empty basket.

“Fmha?” They asked, confused, holding the basket, before finally waking up at the cold breeze that entered the cottage. They looked in open confusion at the piglin, so covered in snow he had to have been waiting outside for more than a few seconds. 

Techno fidgeted in place, offering a quiet thanks, fur littered with snowflakes. And Eret extended a hand, holding the other’s sleeve before the piglin could turn around and leave, stopping him in place. Making a signal to stay there, Eret went into their kitchen and plucked a few loaves of homemade bread, still warm from their stay overnight in the hermetic stove, and put them in a napkin before giving them to Techno, offering a warm good morning.

Techno stayed there, for a few seconds, in bewilderment at the offering, before hunching and nodding, finally leaving. Eret would like to pin the blame on how early it was, but the truth is that no matter how much they try, they are so **_lonely_** here. The villagers are great, but nothing beats talking to a fellow player, no matter what. Trader is easy to speak, but tiring, and villager dialect is so difficult to understand… Eret craves for Player interaction, no matter how much they deny it And maybe, maybe they trust Techno at least a little, influenced by distant memories of tours with an Empire, of someone passing by their colony and deciding to at least spend time, times of exploring a palace in the middle of an arctic tundra.

And so, the days pass and go like this: Eret wakes up and cleans around the cottage, then a knock would be at the door and then they would be giving warm food to Techno, who would then leave to try again to negotiate with the librarian for good book prices; Eret would go later to the village and spend half a day there, helping in whatever capacity they could, before going back to their house and just do whatever they wanted until they were tired. Then, go to bed and repeat everything once again.

Slowly Eret started settling into the new routine, growing used to this new normal after months of only villagers and loneliness. It felt invigorating, this, whatever it was, and they were pretty sure Techno felt the same way, the tense line of his shoulders slowly easing away as the days turned into weeks, into a month; they were creatures cut from the same cloth, they mused, as they slowly filled the basket with some cookies they had cooked yesterday, both were used to routine, and apparently thrived in it, if the more relaxed gait of the warrior outside was anything to go by.

Techno still didn’t say anything, when Eret gave him the basket back, filled with goodies and such, but maybe, it wasn’t necessary, their silent having been cultivated and mutated into a soft contemplance, the shared space of two beings who could recognize, in some distant way, the fate lines that tied them together.

The winter days came to an end, the cold slowly slipping away, as the sun turned a new leaf and started warming up, grass reaching up to the skies, flower blossoms decorating the dirt wherever they stepped on, bees finally waking up from hibernation, their fuzzy bodies seen everywhere, bumping into anything. The children’s laughter could be heard outside, as the villagers kids played and ran in all directions. Eret brushes their hair out of the way, pulling it in a low ponytail, and examining it in the mirror, wondering if maybe they should cut it now, as it has been almost a year since they arrived here. Shrugging, they put on a loose shirt and grab their favourite overall, putting on the tall boots, opening the windows and breathing in the welcomed scent of flowers and greenery.

  
  


It is finally Spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so deep in this idea, you couldn't imagine how much time I spent daydreaming about it. Also, small worldbuilding explanation below, lol Also, ofc this wouldn't be a fic of me without putting techno into the mix sjdhskjdks
> 
> Players when spawning (or appearing or being born) automatically know 2 languages, which are Spoken Galactic and Trader. Spoken Galactic is what lets them interact with the world, (aka why the players have a recipe book and shits and stuff) but they do not know how to read galactic, since that is learned. Trader is, as the name indicates, a trading language used between Players and Villagers, since villagers usually have their own culture, language and dialects which are different depending from the biome, world, etc. Groups of Players can also have their own, individual language (which is like, english, dutch, and stuff), so normally players stay close to ones who know their native language. 
> 
> Players are also identificable bc they have the communicators, which will show their nametags to other nearby Players (aka, why we see the ign above the head and stuff) to let them know if the sentient being they are talking to is a player or not, And bc they carry their respawn star (which is like a nether star, but more blueish and smaller, it is normally in a necklace or bracalet) visible, which lets someone know they have the capacity to respawn. 
> 
> Also villagers don't work exactly the same as in-game, but im guessing yall already knew from the fic so far lmao. I'll probably be expanding more about this concept later on in the story lol


	3. It's A Long Way Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignoring the spluttering behind them, they wave goodbye and return to work, the sounds of the horse steps going away a welcome melody as they grab their hoe and go back to their job.
> 
> It is Spring, and Eret couldn’t be more glad.
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Or: Everything looked good, keyword: "looked".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Glorious bi-con works at a farm, has a nightmare and gets their shit fucked up, more @ 11  
> OG title from "Bottom of the River" by Delta Rae
> 
> Also, this chapter describes in it's second part: Gore/blood and at the end there are descriptions of panic attack.

Eret trudges through the sludges of melting snow, grimacing at the mud catching on their skirt, as they make their way to the village, empty baskets on hand as they leave their cottage behind and go towards the communal farms.

The sun shines brightly above their head, chasing away the chill of the morning, as they greet the villagers and tie their hair with a bandana, putting the baskets down and grabbing a hoe from one of the farmers, who nods in greeting at their presence. It is barely the first week of spring, but the butcher had told Eret how the work started almost immediately to prepare the grounds so the village could have a good harvest later on.

Eret can see about everyone here, the kids milling around the edges and bringing water to the villagers who had been here since the first light of the sun. They tie their shirt a little up, their big boots protecting them from the dirt, as they roll back their sleeves and start hoeing the dirt, the shepherd besides them also working, as the librarians go behind them watering the dirt.

It is menial work, but Eret relishes on it, glad to finally burn off all the energy they stored while stuck in their cottage during winter. They listen to the others talk while working, just humming as they focus on the grueling work.

The sun rises up, and up, and up, unforgiving on it’s rays; as the spring breeze unsuccessfully tries to keep them from overheating. They take a small break around mid-morning, swapping with the toolsmith as they go take a drink of water and talk with some of the villagers. Everyone is here today, most having discarded their usual robes for something more appropriate for the climate.

Eret spends a good portion of the break there, hearing whatever shenanigans everybody got up to while in winter, the iron constructs making rounds at the edges of the village, gentle giants offering flowers whenever a child passes close by. It is… strange, they think as they hear whatever scandal the shepherd’s daughter got involved in, the way they are so involved now in the village’s inner workings.

If asked a year before, they would have probably laughed and then had a breakdown later in bed, incapable of imagining themself in such a peaceful place like now. They didn’t know a lot about villages before, most of the knowledge having been in position of Tubbo’s while in the wa- while they were allies; as far as they had known, librarians could get you nice enchantments books and that was their whole idea of a village. 

Villages were a complex thing, they mused, and villagers too. A sentient race with their own separate dialect, which differs from place to place, with their own cultural values and more. It is both similar and different to Player’s culture, if Eret had to be honest. Everyone had a job here, or tried to contribute in whatever facility they could, and each villager when reaching adulthood took on a job and became a master of it. It was, humbling to be honest, to see villagers overtake such challenges to the extreme, determined to know everything they could about whatever job they decided to have.

And they had so many cultural differences, it had baffled them for a long time at the beginning. Villagers didn’t have names, at least, in a Player conventional sense. Their names were specific words in their own dialect, which when taking a job and mastering it, would abandon. It was a bit difficult to understand, but Eret knew now enough to at least know how to manage.

The shrieking of the children catches their attention, and when they look up, they can see Technoblade surrounded by laughing children, who ran laps around the confused warrior. Making a signal to the farmer overseeing everything, Eret leaves the hoe with a villager and makes their way to the front, where Techno is holding himself very rigidly besides his horse, while the kids chase each other around him.

The piglin holds out an empty basket, and Eret startles, remembering they didn’t wait for the other today, having gone the second they had woken up to go help with the farms.

“Ah…” They so eloquently say, accepting the basket and blushing when remembering how they must look, covered in dirt, with a tied up skirt and big boots that look too out of place. “I’m sorry for not being there, it’s the first day of spring and well, everybody has to help out”

Techno nodded, the golden earrings clinking with each other at the movement, as he stood uncomfortable, something dark splattered over their netherite boots and axe, which Eret steadily ignored.. Technoblade was always in full netherite armour, at least, whenever Eret saw him. It was both humbling and alarming, and they were honestly wondering how the piglin could stand the constant weight and chafe the armor brought. Sure, one could be protected but the cons were sometimes a lot.

They used to always put on the netherite, always on guard whenever they were outside of their personal chambers of the castle, paranoia a good old friend hanging around, as they went armed to the teeth everywhere. It had been very difficult to get out of that mindset when they had arrived at the village, but Eret was glad they had managed to leave it behind. The marks from where the armor would chaf at their skin still hurts from time to time, and they are pretty sure that putting the netherite on all the time ended up hurting them more than protecting.

They sigh and disperse the thoughts away, focusing back on the (Eret is hesitant to qualify as) nervous piglin, so tense they are surprised the warrior hasn’t broken anything yet.

“...It’s fine” He says, firmly not looking anywhere close to Eret, hands tight around the reigns of the horse “I just wanted to give the basket back”

“Oh, that’s fine” Eret hums, looking back at the communal farms, where the librarians are hard at work and then back at the position of the mid morning sun “I… I don’t think anyone will be at their works today? Yeah, no one is going to work today as far as I know”

“... _Oh_ …”

“Come back tomorrow, okay? Pass by the cottage, I’ll give you something to compensate the lack of anything today”

“... The librarians will be there tomorrow, right?” 

Eret paused, and tried remembering what loose schedule someone had told them today when they had joined in helping.

“Yes, but they will only be working half of the day if I remember correctly” Seeing how Techno deflated at the words, Eret laughed, and dusted off their skirt “Don’t worry, I’ll put a good word for you with them. As hilarious it is to see you try to argue with some librarians, it’s starting to make me sad whenever I see you pout while going back home”

Ignoring the spluttering behind them, they wave goodbye and return to work, the sounds of the horse steps going away a welcome melody as they grab their hoe and go back to their job.

It is Spring, and Eret couldn’t be more glad.

* * *

  
  
  
They finish working at around halfway through the afternoon, the communal farms ready for planting in the next few days. The dirt should be left tomorrow to rest, and after tomorrow everyone would go help plant the crops, then leave the farmers to work and keep watch on the farms.

Eret returns with the villagers to the village, deciding to stay and help prepare for the small feast everyone would have to celebrate the first day of spring. They spend most of the time with the butcher, helping bring the plates full of food to the tables that had been put in the middle of the village, where the stalls would normally be. 

Everyone is tired but satisfied, and Eret basks in the feeling too, happy to have participated in something like this. They like helping create, helping build, and although working on a farm most of the day isn’t the most glorious thing, it still makes Eret glow with pride. The happy chatter surrounds them and they smile, persistently ignoring the ghost memories of raucous laughter besides their ear, trying unsuccessfully to tune into the gossip right now.

Before they know it, it is already night, the iron constructs making steady rounds around the houses, everyone packing up to go home. They stay behind a bit, helping bring the rest of the tables and dishes into the houses, the stars watching silently from above.

Eret can hear the sounds of distant zombies and the rattling bones of the skeletons in the dark, and they hesitate, at the path that leads to their house. Most constructs stay strictly around villager’s houses, and the main area of the village, so their path is alone and probably full of monsters right now. They grimace, looking at themself, in a dirty skirt and soft long sleeved shirt, with muddy boots, unarmed and without anything that could protect them in case something were to attack.

The night that at the beginning felt welcoming and peaceful, now feels oppressive and dark, something tense hanging in the air, choking their lungs and making the villagers close their doors firmly. They stare at the path, calculating if they have the energy to run all the way back home, when the butcher calls to them.

“Stay the night?” She asks, face in a frown and looking worried at her doorstep.

“I, I don’t wanna intrude?” Eret says, uncomfortable.

The butcher just rolls her eyes and tugs them inside, her hand a solid weight against his wrist. They blink when they enter her home, an overlay of messy oak planks and brewing stands thrown together overtaking the tiny house for a second, before they can focus on the glow of the torches decorating the walls, the small kitchen and the chest in one corner.

The butcher soon sets them up in an additional bed, and soon the whole house is dark, the only sounds disturbing the peace of the iron constructs walking outside. 

Eret stays there, looking outside the window, the moonless night covering the whole world. Something thrums on their bones, the whispers of something dark, of something rotten closer and closer, but Eret uneasily ignores them, weary and tired.

They spend the whole night like this, memories reaching it’s ghostly fingers and trying to take them back into the past, sound of laughter mixed with so many screams Eret is afraid he can no longer distinguish. They fall into uneasy sleep, waking up every few hours with the sounds of explosions echoing so strongly on their ears, they check around the house silently to make sure everything it’s in order. 

When the sun rises, clouds covering almost the entire sky, Eret has only slept a handful of hours, irritated and shaky from the dreams (or nightmares?) they got all night. They are dozing off sitting by the window, the butcher moving around the kitchen and the village slowly waking up. Whenever they open an eye, everyone looks tense going through the streets, the constructs nowhere to be found, which just helps to make everyone feel more unsafe.

They yawn, burrowing more into the place they are sitting—

An arrow breaks through the window, the glass shattering into a million pieces, leaving a thin gash on their cheek as the arrow gets stuck into the wall behind them.

They startle, falling into the ground and looking out the window, as the golden bell in the middle of the village finally tolls. They gulp and stand up shakily, as they hear screams and the sound of horns filling the air.

Ignoring the butcher, who is desperately trying to hold them back, they stumble into the street, rocks digging into the flimsy socks they have on. The horns sound closer and closer, as more pillagers trickle into the village, shooting into the houses and scaring everyone.

They don’t think, running down the street and stumbling into the toolsmith shed, ducking under the swing of the axe, the vindicator who had been cornering the toolsmith sneering at them and trying to hit them again. Eret ducks again, and decks the other, ignoring the pain shooting through their hands as the vindicator crumbles into the ground, the toolsmith finishing him off with a sword in the chest.

They pant, adrenaline pulsing in their body, as the black marks on their hands grow and grow into their arms up to the elbow at their emotions. The toolsmith throws them an axe and they nod, getting out of the shed and looking at the busy and chaotic street.

They join into the fray, ducking in between the long arms of the iron constructs, the once gentle guardians now a mountain of steel as it tores into the enemies lines. Eret helps around, killing whatever pillagers that are left behind in the path of destruction of the iron construct, ducking under the way of the bolts and ignoring the slashes that grow and grow in their skin as they are too slow to evade a swipe along the way.

The whole village is in shambles, houses on fire, as Eret runs through it and tries helping wherever they can, disposing of as many mobs as they can. 

In the middle of trying to evade the troublesome vexes, the one that had almost stabbed them explodes into a puff of dust, the arrow continuing its path and killing the evoker behind the little flying monsters. Eret turns, blood trickling down their temple from a not evaded swipe of an axe, the silhouette of a horse bringing so much hope to their chest, they feel as they might explode. The figure stands there, watching for a moment the destruction raining all around, before snapping the reigns.

The horse gallops into the street, the heavy diamond armour clinking with each step as the animal kicks down whatever stands on its path, the piglin on top of it getting down and joining into the fray, the glint of the netherite shining brightly in the previously dim day.

Eret smiles gratefully at the warrior, who huffs and just goes back into the fray, standing right besides them, covering whenever he cans, as they tear into the remaining mobs. It is more easy now, the silent companion besides them fueling them with determination as they continue onwards to the thick of the raid, evokers and witches standing on their path and practically swarming them with their magic.

At one point Eret’s axes break, the wood handle splintering into pieces as they had tried to block the swing of a vindicator. The other’s weapon had also broken, but the vindicator had continued on, throwing them onto the ground and doing it’s damndest to try and kill them.

Hands curled around their throat, and without even thinking, they struck a hand out, the claws digging painfully into the grey skin and soon withering, the vindicator stumbling back in horror as it watched its skin disintegrate slowly. Eret strikes, claws ripping out the throat before them, and continues onwards, instincts the only thing fueling them right now.

_Survive, survive, survive._

Their mind chants, as they duck in between the attacks and utilises to their fullest what little power being a hybrid brings them. And they do so, killing whatever stands on their path relentlessly.

A roar brings them out of their stupor, and they can only blink at the fires in their vision as a Ravager runs towards them, the mouth opened wide, harsh and pointy teeth about to break them in two, when a hand tugs them from their shirt and they land, coughing, at the feet of someone.

They look up, blinking against the smoke burning in their eyes, at the piglin who is now snarling at the Ravager, tusk bared and covered in blood, an image out of the apocalypse, the famous harbinger of the Blood God towering above them. And Eret drinks up the image, safety now spread all over their chest, knowing they will be safe under the watch of the piglin.

Techno runs ahead and engages with the Ravager, and Eret stands shakily behind, looking at the now destroyed village, fires all around, everything trampled, corpses littering the doorways.

Eret tears their gaze away from everything, trying to ignore the rapid pace of their heartbeat, and look around, trying to search for any stragglers. There, they spot it, a pillager who is now levelling a crossbow at—

Without even thinking, Eret runs, ignoring the glass, the embers burning into their feet, practically throwing themself at the piglin, watching the crossbow bolt go just above their heads.

Eret doesn’t quite know why they did it, but they breathe just a little more easily, ignoring the pain, ignoring the burning adrenaline through their veins, as they watch the iron construct sneak up behind the pillager and kill it.

( _They don’t consciously think about it but they know why they jumped in front of the arrow. They know, because long mornings watching each other, some contact with Players after so long, someone who never asks why they are here, why they are a hybrid in the middle of a normal village, someone who never looks at them like less, someone who looks at them and just lets them be, someone who came when they needed help, someone who, unknowingly, reminds them so much of themself with his dead gaze. They could have easily just let the piglin die, the player would have woken up without any danger to himself but… but they remember Techno stopping and staring at the ruined village, knowing he could have turned back and left them to their fate... Eret knows why they jumped in front of the arrow, but they don’t think they are willing realize it just yet)_

As the adrenaline from the battle starts to fade from their body, they start to register the pain all around them and barely have a second to think _Uh Oh_ , before they collapse into the ground, hissing as they feel the dirt get into the injuries they have.

There is something towering above them, and when Eret blinks dizzy they recognize the piglin, who is watching with a frown at them. Is it a frown? They—They aren’t sure.

Now that there isn’t adrenaline powering them, they feel weak and nauseous, trying and failing to get up the floor. They blink, and now Techno is closer than before, when did it get so cold?

_Oh_ , they think as they stare at the blood pooled in each place they were, _that explains it._

Eret disappears in a puff of smoke and wakes up in their cottage, the bed croaking with the sudden weight.

They stumble out of bed, out of breath and knees trembling from the intense pain from respawning, and they can almost taste the blood on their tongue.

The door is open ajar, and they collapse against it, out of breath as they stare at the now midday sun. They are back on their normal clothes, the old dark jeans constricting and the grey shirt stained with old blood. When they look at their chest, they see the respawn star glowing brightly against their chest, the now buzzing communicator on their wrist. Everything is too much, so loud, the pain practically overwhelming them.

“Shit” They hiss, eyes wide open as they burrow their claws into the wooden door, ignoring the wither slowly taking effect on it, the weight from all that happened hitting them at once “ _Shit”_

They slide down to the floor, almost hyperventilating, panic clawing its way into their chest and burrowing deep, the claws ripping them to shreds on the inside. They cannot get enough air in, they think desperately, _I’m going to die._

The communicator keeps vibrating, and vibrating and vibrating, messages now being loaded since it is restored back to a normal state after respawning. Without thinking, Eret practically claws it off ignoring the angry claw marks they leave on their arms, opening it with shaking hands and tugging desperately at the red wire, the frenetic thoughts of _“they’ll find me they’ll find me they’ll find me”_ filling their head.

Once the wire is practically torn out, Eret throws the communicator away, the little grey box ending up at the feet of a pair of netherite boots.

They jump back, tears pooled at their white, unnatural eyes, breath out of control, as they stare at the silent piglin in front of their door, hands shaking too much, as they heave and try to breathe.

“...Eret” Techno breathes, in surprise or in confusion they couldn't tell, standing with the netherite armour covered in blood, face so serious it just makes everything so so much **worse.**

**_He knows._ ** Eret thinks hysterically, hiding their face between shaking hands, **_He knows, he knows he knows_ **.

What are they meant to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter than the others bc i rlly wanted to expand onto the more good stuff but i needed to get this out of the way lol. So next chapters are going to be a bit more juicy :D Also kudos to everyone who catched the foreshadowing!!! you get a cookie for it!!!  
> also I created a playlist for this fic?? and like, if people were interested I could put it somewhere in the notes next chapter? so yeah, lmk if u want to hear what songs I have for cottagecore eret lol


	4. Weighed Down By Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are at the mercy of Technoblade, and they do not know how they feel at that prospect. All the trust and safety had come based on the idea of anonymity they had, because if Techno had known who they were, would he have stayed, would he have actually cared? 
> 
> They doubt it.
> 
> \-----
> 
> The aftermath of the revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: Wither/enderman hybrid is amazed someone cares about them, and in turn gets sad bc the piglin that gave them an anxiety attack doesn't look like he's being particularly loved.
> 
> Original Title from Birthday Suit, by Cosmo Sheldrake
> 
> Vague descriptions of: dissasociation, panic attacks. Not graphic but, better safe than sorry

Eret stays there, curled at the doorstep, the damp dirt beneath them the only thing grounding them in this World, mind panicking so hard they can barely notice what is around them.

They stayed like this, for hours or minutes, they couldn’t tell, their fast heartbeat the only sound in their ears, as they tried to calm down and breathe in vain. Finally, Eret manages to take in a shaky breath, inhaling deeply, almost hiccuping, trying to rub away the black tears falling down their face. 

They grimace at the new stains, feeling uncomfortable on the old clothes he has on. That’s unfortunately the worst thing about respawning, they think while trying to focus on breathing, everything reverts back into how they were when they joined the server, so any clothes, trinkets, would just be left behind.

Eret ignores the distant burning smoke that clogs their throat, eyes closed and head bowed between their knees as they grip tightly at the legs and try to feel as if they still exist. They feel shaky, as if a strong breeze would topple them down; which isn’t so far to think, as they grimace at the pain from respawn settle down on their bones.

While their body is perfectly fine, the pain of the blood loss is still present on their mind, the brain still thinking they are stuck back in that situation. It honestly sucks, and it's the biggest aspect of why Eret prefers not to die, if anything can be done.

After some minutes of trying to catch their breath, Eret looks up, eyes squinting against the hard midday sun. They can still see the smoke rising in the sky, as if trying to swallow the sun whole, the place quiet in the way catasphobes make Worlds go silent.

They blink and notice the heavy red cape over their shoulders, the cloth heavy and so soft to the touch, it is almost impossible to comprehend for a second. The white fluff tickles at their neck, and they burrow under it, feeling as if the cape is protecting them from the world and everything that could threaten them. A flash of pink catches their attention, and when they look to the side, where Techno is sitting stiffly beside them, holding himself so rigid he looks more like a statue made from stone than something alive.

The piglin is firmly looking ahead, not even sneaking a glance to them, face blank in a way that in the past Eret wouldn’t have known how to read. But they see how rigid their shoulders are, how stiff his tail is, the almost minuscule furrow on his eyes denoting how uncomfortable he is. The piglin stays silent, his twitching ears the only sign that he is still paying attention to them, and it makes Eret blush, shame bubbling up on their chest at the thought of the warrior seeing them crumble down.

“I…” Eret pauses, at the croak of their voice and try to clear their throat “I’m uh, sorry for that”

Techno flicks an ear and answers, still not looking at them “Uhh, it’s fine”

Eret fidgets in place, nervous, about how to continue this. What do they say, what do they do? They don’t have any armor nor weapons, and not in a million years could they even dare to imagine the idea of taking the Blood God on; they cannot run away, body still weak from respawn, and where could they run? They had already ran away as far as possible, in the only direction that no member of the SMP had gone before.

They are at the mercy of Technoblade, and they do not know how they feel at that prospect. All the trust and safety had come based on the idea of anonymity they had, because if Techno had known who they were, would he have stayed, would he have actually cared? They doubt it.

“You better?” Techno asks, after some uncomfortable silence.

Eret nods, hesitant, because while they still feel as if the slightest breeze would topple them over, at least they have their breath under control and… they are kind of tired of hiding in fear.

“Alright” Techno says, almost under his breath, standing up and carefully tugging Eret up too, keeping them wrapped in the cloak and guiding them inside the house. 

They follow, confused, as they are guided into their sofa and sat down, the piglin silent the entire time. They end up, out of breath and hiding the shakiness of their hands under the red cloth, almost curled up on the middle of the sofa as the other sits in front of them, on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, the furniture almost creaking under the weight of the netherite armor.

They stare at each other, in silence, neither party knowing how to start talking, Eret confused on what is going to happen.

“...I’m guessing you will turn me in to Dream, right?” They mutter, gaze down on their fidgeting fingers.

“Heh?? What?” They flinch at the tone of the other, almost burrowing entirely under the red heavy cloak.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Dream still has that bounty on me… It’s easy money, I can see why you would take it”

“Wh— Eret no.”

“Why not? Doubt anyone actually cares what happens to me as long as they get something in the end” They hunch at the sharp breath the other takes, not looking up even as they hear Techno move.

“Eret I won’t turn you in, Aether above’s,” He says, and when they sneak a glance, the piglin looks stressed passing a hand down his face. “I already knew you weren’t a villager, why would I turn you in now?”

“You, You knew!?”

“Eret” At this, he looks at them deadpan “I had my suspicions for weeks that you were a Player, no natural made village has a high-content hybrid among them normally for so long, and your house is very different from the villager’s houses”

“...Oh…”

“I knew you were a Player, but I didn’t connect the dots until today”

Eret fidgets, frowning “Does… Does anyone else know?”

“No. Phil still thinks you are a “very nice villager”, he almost never visits, and at this point I’m sure he already forgot” Techno sighs and leans back “And even if he knew I doubt he would snitch, Phil knows how to keep secrets”

“I… Why didn’t you say anything though?”

“Why would I? You clearly were living alone for a reason, and since you never had your communicator with you, I guessed you wanted to stay hidden”

“I… Yeah, that was the plan” Eret says, almost sad.

“In your defense, you probably would have never been found if it wasn’t because I have my base nearby. Everyone back on the SMP thinks you left the world or like, died or something, not really sure since I also left pretty early on.”

“They do?”

The piglin nods, arms crossed “Yeah, they were looking for you for ages before giving up. As far as I know, they used to think you were gone”

“Used to?”

“I mean” Techno shrugs “You did just respawn and I’m pretty sure the death appeared on the general chat”

Eret blanched, hands tightening around the cloak as they paled.

“Don’t worry about it! You disconnect your tracker, right?” The piglin interrupted, before they could spiral into another panic attack, and waited until the wither hybrid nodded before continuing “Then they cannot find you. I doubt Dream was looking at any code at that moment, so you should be safe”

Eret nods, not feeling quite safe truthfully, but too tired to say anything.

“Why did you keep coming?” They ask, “If you knew I was a Player why did you keep coming back? You never were one for socializing and you didn’t particularly like me back then”

At this Techno stops, and stays silent, Eret only tugging at the red cloak to cover them more as they wait for an answer.

“I…” Techno starts and then stops, sighing, before getting up. “Go to sleep Eret, I’ll see you around”

And before they can even say anything, the piglin leaves, the door closing behind him with finality. They blinked confused at the now empty house, the change so abrupt they barely could react. They entertain the thought of going out and following Techno and demand answers, but they feel so drained from all that happened, tremors still wrecking their shaky and frail frame, they just lean back on the sofa, burrow deep into the heavy cape that smells of safety and home.

And Eret falls asleep.

  
  


* * *

_ It isn’t dark outside, at least not yet, the fading sun of the late afternoon reigning over their broken city almost instantly.  _

_ Eret is outside of their house, bag filled with clinking glass bottles tightly held on their hands, as they walk through the dark alleyways of the city, carefully stepping around and avoiding the main streets.  _

_ Their parent is sick, bedridden and feverish, and as much as Eret hates leaving them alone, they must leave to get some potions and medicine from the herbalist, as they have nothing on their house that could help. The ten year old creeps close to the walls, taking care to not be seen, as they remember vividly their parent warnings to not go outside after mid afternoon. Eret doesn’t know why they can’t go outside after that time, and they are pretty sure their parent will be mad they went outside, but they cannot stay knowing they could go get medicine and help. _

_ The whole world is silent, the only sound around that of their muddy socks sneaking around. They grimace at the wet socks but continue onwards valiantly, determined to get back to the house as soon as possible. Every few minutes they stop, pressed against the crumbling walls of the alleyways as the sound of iron boots move up and down the main streets. They almost can’t remember why they must hide in the shadows, but the fear on their ‘rent voice is enough deterrent for them, so they hide, and sneak and crouch, grateful for the lack of communicator. _

_ They are saving up for one, and have been for a long time, but in times like this they are grateful that they haven’t bought it yet. While it would help them, most people are averse to Players here, and a usertag would, for sure, make all the sneaking almost useless. It doesn’t make them wish any less for a communicator, daydreams of them and their ‘rent leaving this hell-hole and moving into their own private world, a peaceful pocket of space where they could grow as a child and not worry about anything else. _

_ They re-adjust their ratty shirt, and move carefully, minding where they step so they can avoid all the broken glass covering the ground. Soon, they can see their old and haggard apartment in the distance, and they perk up, walking more quickly, almost jogging, wanting to get home as soon as possible. They peer from the alleway, and seeing no one outside, they grin and jog to the doorstep of the old apartment complex, the door almost falling apart.  _

_ They reach up for the door knob when the clinking of iron armor startles them. They turn around, and tremble when they see a pair of soldiers walking down the street. They try to open the door, but it doesn’t, probably stuck since it had been raining recently and the door always got stuck when it rained. They would have to enter through one of the windows. _

_ They try to move silently, but at the exclamation of the soldiers, they know they have been seen, so they run, as fast as they can, around the building to the back window that is always open. They jump, ignoring the jagged rocks digging into their palms as they try to heave themself up the ledge, desperation and panic starting to fill their chest as they hear the footsteps getting closer, closer, closer. _

_ They gasp, managing to get onto the ledge and practically throwing themself into the window, freedom so close they can almost taste it when something grabs their ankle. _

_ They scream, kicking back at the cold gauntlet closed around their leg, desperate to try and get inside. If he was inside they couldn’t get them, that’s the rule of the monsters, so they kick and kick and kick, hearing the soldier who catched them calling for his companion. They  _ **_need_ ** _ to get the medicine to their parent, their ‘rent won’t survive the night if not, so without thinking, Eret twists and reaches a black hand to the iron, the tiny claws making a horrible shriek against the metal. _

_ The soldier lets them go, his alarmed shot as the iron withers around his hand sounding like glory, as Eret kicks and manages to get inside, chest heaving as they stare at the window, where the soldier looks at the iron decay.  _

_ “A monster!” The soldier cries to the other, staring with rage at the trembling child at the other side of the window. _

_ Eret flinches and scrambles upward, the clinking bag pressed tightly against their chest, as they run up the stairs, ignoring the sound of creaking wood downstairs. They run, as fast as they can, and throw themself against the door of their apartment, opening and closing as fast as possible. They lean against the wood, heartbeat strong on their ears, as they hear the soldiers coming up. They don’t even dare to breathe, afraid of the monsters outside, that could sniff their fear. _

_ They stay like this for some minutes, the anxiety-inducing sound of the heavy footsteps outside the only thing possible heard. They close their eyes tightly, hearing the soldiers talk in low voices outside before the footsteps recede and go downstairs, the slam of a door the signal that they are alone now. _

_ With trembling limbs, they detach from the door, and make their way to the only bedroom of the apartment, the stench of sickness strong in the air. Grabbing a glass and what is left of the water bottle, they bring it to the bedroom, where their parent is sleeping fitfully, an almost dried rag over their head. _

_ They carefully mix the potions they managed to get, grimacing at the tiny cracks the glass bottles have, gently shaking the other and helping them sit up, bringing the glass bottle to their lips. Eret replaces the rag, helps their parent lie down, and covers them, opening a little of the cracked window to let some air inside.  _

_ Once their duty is done, Eret sits beside their parent, their warmth a grounding sensation besides them, and closes their eyes, ignoring their dirty clothes, the scratches on their hands, on their legs, and daydream of something better. _

_ They would have a nice house, they think wistfully, with lots of space and a little farm where their ‘rent could work and spend time outside. They would live happily, with enough to survive and no hunger to gnaw at them, peace finally around them. _

_ They would have peace, even if it killed them _

* * *

  
  


Eret wakes up startled, panic gripping their chest when they look around and they don’t see their parent around, before blinking and remembering what happened.

_ Ah _ , they think grimacing,  _ a dream. _

Or memory.

Shaking their head, they carefully stumble out of the heavy cape, leaving it behind on the sofa, as they walk to their kitchen, stretching and trying to let the last remnants of the dream go away, as they put the kettle on and search for some tea on their cupboards.

They make themself a mug of tea, the warmth of the mug a grounding thing, as they sit on the table and carefully sip the hot liquid, letting it warm them from the inside out, mug cradled against their chest as if to chase away the chills from yesterday’s cold panic.

They stayed there after they finished their drink, staring out the window, mind both quiet and filled with sounds. They feel disconnected from everything, as if their body is but a ghost, an illusion they dreamed of, something dead filled with rocks that they move around. They stare at their hands, black shiny skin reaching up and up their arms, curled and gnarled claws filled with the promise of death, of destruction.

They look at the shiny black scales, akin to that of a butterfly, shining with purple accents in the light, the black wisp that emanate from the claws and curl around the air, the small runes inked into their wrists, the splotches of black skin appearing randomly through their elbows and legs, the wither effect apparent even through the clothes.

At least, this inhumanness, this curse, shows them that this is their body. Nobody would choose something so wretched, so pitiful, like this carcass they inhabit. Were it not for how they breathe, nobody would think of this body as something alive. They sigh, both calm and tired, getting up from their spot and leaving the mug on the counter, walking silently to their bedroom and opening the ajar door, breathing in the familiar scent of spruce wood, of tea and wither that they have grown used to.

They breathe in and out, letting the smell curl around them and soothe their frayed senses, until they feel calm and enough in control to continue on. With careful movements they peel the old and dirty clothes from their body, a grimace etched into their face as they stare at the grey and ratty shirt on their hands, the fabric old and stained with dried blood from the first months they had spent working on their cottage while trying to not get eaten alive by the mobs outside. They stare at it, the promise of a past long gone, and focus, letting the wither come alive and devour the clothes on his hands, staring at the decaying cloth until it is mere ashes.

Satisfied, they do the same with the old jeans they have on and quickly grab some of their new clothes, reigning back their powers to not ruin anything, sighing satisfied at the soft shirt and grabbing some baggy sweatpants, the fabric loose and comfortable around them. Satisfied that they are now out of those oppressive clothes, they leave the bedroom and go to the living room, sitting on the sofa and sighing, not knowing what to do now.

The sound of knocking distracts them, but before they can even entertain the idea of getting up, the door opens, the piglin Player enters the cottage, the netherite sewed into his clothes shimmering with powerful enchantments.

Technoblade just looks at them, and huffs, a black and grey box on his hand as they clean their boots and enter into the house, staying for a little while on the doorstep, as if hesitating, before he finds them on the sofa and sighs. His steps resonate against the wooden planks that cover the floor, sitting in front of them, face serious and blank, holding himself so relaxed and attentive, it makes them a little uneasy.

“So…” The piglin says but stops, as if not knowing how to proceed “....so”

“I… Well, I guess we need to talk about yesterday” Eret says, uncomfortable, gaze stuck anywhere but on the piglin in front of him.

“We talk as long as you are comfortable”

“...It will not be a lot”

Technoblade sighs, and now that Eret looks at him, dressed in light blues and fluffy parkas, they cannot help but feel as if the piglin is as tired, or even more, as them.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot to be significant”

Eret nods, hesitant, and lets the silence grow, as they think of what to say, how to articulate the swirling thoughts around their mind. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here, so far away from the SMP? As far as I know you were king”

“I  _ was _ the king” They breathe out, already tired from this, even though they are barely starting “I got dethroned by Dream”

“... and?”

“Dream is the one who holds the true power of the faction. I was just there to do the papers and try to keep the kingdom from collapsing while the Admin went ahead and fucked off”

“...You sound angry”

“I… I’m kind of angry. I, I sacrificed a lot for it” Eret frowns “I did everything for it, and lost everything i had because of it”

“But even dethroned, you still would have your builds no? I don’t see why you would just… leave it behind”

“My builds were no longer mine… All the building I did was, in the end, in the name of the kingdom. The buildings were  _ for _ the kingdom. When George was crowned King, well… Everything i had done went to him”

Techno nods, but still looking quite confused “Still, why would you run away? You had friends in New L’manburg, no?”

“... I guess they were more allies than friends in the end” Eret closes their eyes and tries to reign in the emotions bubbling up on their chest “Tell me, why do you care?”

“Heh?”

“I just… I don’t understand why you would care about what happened? Before this you didn’t particularly like me, and we didn’t talk a lot in this World” 

The silence grows once again between them, and Eret is sure that now the other will leave once again, like yesterday.

“I… You, you knew who I was when you first saw me months ago” Technoblade begins, slowly, as if having practised a speech and telling it from memory “You knew who I was, and you didn’t act differently. You never asked anything… you just…. You just gave me food and let me be”

And Techno says it with such tenderness, so slowly, as if it were too alien to care about someone, to not ask anything of them, it makes something inside Eret sad that such a fearsome warrior can care about a nobody because of so little.

The moment passes in a blink of the eye though, and the Player in front of him goes back into the fearsome Blood God of always, the piglin straightening his posture and leaning forwards to ask them “What will you do now?”

“Huh?”

“People now remember you and I’m pretty sure they will be searching for you” As if to remark this, Techno passes them their communicator, the tiny box vibrating constantly as messages continue coming and coming. “I doubt they will give up anytime soon”

“Ugh” Eret scowled, looking at the box with almost distaste “I’m sure they will give up soon. They did the last time”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody messaged me for a long, long time after I left” Eret turns it on and flinches at the onslaught of private messages “I find it a bit… shallow that they care now when they didn’t before”

“...I don’t think that’s true” At Eret’s glare, Techno just shrugs “They were pretty desperate the first months, never saw them not typing anything at least twice a day”

“What?”

“Yeah, they searched like, crazy everywhere for you”

And Eret blinks, confused, not knowing how to feel about that. They cared? It feels so strange to think about, especially considering what had happened before, how they always acted around them, it just feels like a lie, conjured up to make them feel better.

“I… I never got any message” At this Techno frowns, and extends his hand, asking for the communicator, which Eret instantly gives him. 

The piglin opens the communicator and checks the interior, carefully moving things around, before nodding satisfied and closing it.

“Did you mess with it when you left?”

“I don’t think—No wait, yes I did change something the first time. I disconnected the tracker”

“That must be it. When you disconnected it, it probably messed up the thing that lets you receive messages. When you died, it restored back to the original state so that’s must be why the messages are now loading in; plus, we are pretty far away from spawn, to messages always take longer to load the farther away one is” Techno nodded, giving it back “The closer it is to a Player, the more easily messages will be able to come across; so if you don’t want them you could just stick it back into a chest”

They nodded, looking at the communicator, the possibilities almost endless for them.

“So, what will you do now?”

“I. um… I’ll probably help with rebuilding the village and after that? I think just… continue on, as I was before. How about you?”

Techno shrugs “Same as always, keep trying to get good prices for books, continue to live on my tiny house, same as always”

“You live in the northern village, right?”

“Yep, a little up from it is my house. I have a small trade relationship going with them for food, I’ve only come here for the librarians”

“Why are you so far away from the smp though? I’m pretty sure the Admin likes you enough to want to keep you around”

The piglin tenses, the once swaying tail falling still.

“...Let’s say I am not exactly welcomed there”

“Ah, anarchism right?”

“....In part” Techno stands up, looking relaxed if not for how tense his tail was standing now “Future will prove me right, though”

Eret watches the piglin sigh, so tired, his expression almost… defeated. 

“I best be going, the trek back to my house is kind of long” He states, going to the door and opening it.

“I’ll see you around?” Eret asks, not holding out much hope.

The Player pauses, and looks back at them with something indescriptible in his gaze before nodding.

“Yeah, see you around Eret”

The door closes and they had never felt so alone before, the once filled with chatter cottage falling silent, the heavy imprint of the piglin staring at them from every corner of the room. They exhale gently, and hold their head on their hands, the continuous vibrating from their communicator on the sofa the only sound left, the once again forgotten red cape left behind.

What a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter pog!!! I just want to say a really big thank you to everyone who comments, kudos or makes bookmarks, it fills me with so much serotonin and validation you guys are amazing :,)
> 
> Also yeah!! To everyone who thought that the communicator description on the first chapter had some foreshadowing, you get a cookie!!!! *slaps roof of this fic* this fanfic can contain SO MUCH foreshadowing and symbolism in it.
> 
> Also, for the ones who would like the playlist I have a youtube one right here! [ In June, I Change My tune ](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLl3gV8YNk8ja_RiJt-L31J8TOlf2Cqtli). The songs are, of right now, somewhat on a chronological order of what is happening in the fic as of now, so have some fun theorizing what could happen next! I am making a spotify playlist too, which I'll probably link in the next chapter? Anyways, i hope you guys liked this chapter :D


	5. Let’s Grow Stuff Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret would like that voice to please, please shut up because they know it but that doesn’t mean the awful feelings go away. Sure, it is logical that now is that they are processing it, but surely it could have waited a few months, or years? Or decades?
> 
> Healing is important, sure, but Eret is not really keen on it, no thank you.
> 
> \------------------
> 
> Also known as Eret tries bonding with Technoblade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Eret thinks about frienship, about techno and then friendship again
> 
> Original title from: Mind of Rocks (ft Bunty) by Cosmo Sheldrake.

It is… strange, the aftermath.

No, more than strange, for that is not quite the word… It’s more like startling, if Eret were to be pressed to describe the sensation after Technoblade leaves and the days after.

The first days they mostly spend it on bed, dealing with the pain of respawn, fitful sleep and waking in the middle of the night, heart on their throat as they wait for the telling sound of arrows to break their windows, slowly going back to sleep (or trying to sleep) when nothing happens. It is… Tough, they will admit it.

They haven’t had to deal with the Respawn pain for such a long time, and they spend most of the time recovering curled on their bed, the glowing respawn star hanging from their neck, a soothing small weight that reassures them whenever they wake up startled by the sounds outside. 

They now wear the start around their neck, under their shirt and letting the small warmth calm them down. After they feel good enough to get out of bed and be capable of standing around, they go back to the village, a stone sinking on their chest at the sight of the now destroyed place.

Most of the houses are torn down, or burnt, walls frail and brittle, as Eret stares at them, remembering the hungry flames reaching up and up, before their attention is called away. The villagers look relieved to see them, and Eret instantly feels better at their concern, a gentle smile filling their face as they let the Cleric examine them, despite telling the Cleric they are fine.

Afterwards, once they are free and the villagers feel better with knowing they are okay, they ask about the damages, the injured. It… It isn’t a pretty image, if Eret had to be honest, hearing about how many villagers lay sleeping, too injured to move, in the Cleric’s building, one of the only that had managed to survive the raid. A lot of houses got destroyed, knocked over or burnt entirely, all of the villager’s belongings going up in flames too.

Fortunately, there are very few deaths. Eret thanks the Aether it was so few, but it still feels as a few too many. They stand in front of the graves, more symbolic than anything, only decorated with minimal things, as most had burned down. They stare at the handmade pot filled with flowers, at the carved wooden animal, the bunch of wild flowers transplanted there, the broken toys and they try to ignore how another piece of their heart breaks. 

They stay there for a long time, mourning those they had been too late to save, those that were cornered by the pillagers; they let themself mourn the villagers, and then they gather themself up, ignoring their trembling and rattling chest, the yowling inside of them, and go towards the village.

Soon, they throw themself into the planning, memories of helping plan and build their once-kingdom present on their mind as they discuss with the villagers what to do, what houses to take down, what to rebuild and more. It is almost familiar work, reminding them a lot of their time as a monarch, but they do their best to try and push away those memories, not sure even after all this time they are capable of remembering without heartbreak starting all over again.

They spend the next two days in the village, staying with the Cleric to help the injured with their very weak knowledge of medicine and planning with the other Masters of professions what to do and how to rebuild, not wanting to take all the decisions by themself. On the third day, they wave goodbye and go back to their cottage, nose scrunched as they carry their old clothes on one hand and pick at the robes the Butcher let them borrow, the fabric hanging loosely around them. It would normally be fine but it is scratchy, and Eret makes a mental note to try to get more nicer clothes to the Butcher.. 

They pause, almost at the ending of the path that leads to the cottage, and stare. Because in front of their door, sitting on the steps and reminding them too much of a kicked dog, is Technoblade, staring at the dirt and tracing nonsensical shapes with a stick. It sincerely startles them, having been so focused on the village they had almost forgotten anything else existed outside of it. 

The dirt crunches underneath their feet, but Technoblade only flicks an ear as a sign he knows they are here. Eret hesitates, torn in between just entering the house and closing the door or asking the piglin if everything is okay. They end up in a compromise, opening the door and inviting the other Player in, ignoring the stare they receive.

It is a little uncomfortable at first, when Technoblade enters the house and just stands on the doorway, hesitating in even taking a step more into the house. His shoulders are tense, tail still and straight, and he keeps softly kicking his feet against the wooden floor, so it is very clear how nervous he is, which is a very startling thing to see.

Eret tries to give him space, going to the kitchen and putting the kettle on, acting as if it were almost a week ago, when Eret didn’t know Techno knew who they were, when Techno still didn’t confront them, when the village was alright and everyone was alive, as if the piglin had come like he had done every morning, waiting for the food Eret would offer now.

They peer into their cupboards, checking which tea they have before grabbing the dried lavender and putting a little into each cup, deciding they could use a calming drink. They ignore Techno as he finally moves into the house, hesitantly sitting down on the kitchen table, netherite helmet off, fidgeting with his red cape.

The mugs are a little chipped, the drawing they had painted on them when they received the mugs almost fading away now from the constant use, but Eret still pours the boiling water in, bringing the mugs to the table and putting both sugar and honey in it, passing a teaspoon to Techno and telling him to add however much sugar and honey as he wanted. 

They sit in silence, the smell of lavender enveloping the kitchen, as the afternoon sun bathes the house on warm colors. 

Slowly, Techno relaxes, visibly breathing in the flowery scent and shoulder going down, not as tense as he was before. It is humbling, to see such a famous warrior in their kitchen, sipping from the lavender tea they made so trustingly. It lights a warm fire on their chest, and they try to hide their smile with the mug, content to enjoy this small peace.

Unfortunately, the tea doesn’t last forever, so Techno soon just ends up fidgeting with the mug, finger tracing constantly the edge of it, ears tense, clearly denoting his nervousness. It's enough to also make them nervous, so they sigh and stand up, opening the cupboard on the opposite side, smiling triumphantly when they manage to grab the tupperware that stores the cookies they frequently bake. The chocolate chips are a little stale, but a testing bite shows the food is edible so they grab a bowl out of the counter and pour a few in. They have a feeling a semi-heavy conversation is going to happen, and they really really don’t want to have one so the chocolate will probably help.

Eret sits back down and passes the bowl to Techno, the piglin barely hesitating before grabbing one cookie and starting to eat it in very little bites, as if not desiring to talk and also wanting something to do. They think for a moment what to say, to start what is clearly heavy on Techno’s mind, but before they can open their mouth the other sighs, and puts the cookie down, staring down at his hands frowning.

“I… I wanted to check how you were doing” Techno is hesitating, almost uncomfortable, and it is understandable, when most of their interactions involved Techno staying silent and they doing most of the talking.

“Hm, I. Uh, well, it’s going well mostly. I was busy checking the village these past days, seeing what must be rebuilt or changed because of the raid” Techno nods, still staring intently at his hands “Boring stuff, mostly planning. Tomorrow I think we will start collecting materials for rebuilding”

“That's… uh, that’s good”

“It is. Fortunately most of the damage that was dealt to the buildings were superficial, so it won’t be a lot to make from zero. The villagers were talking about trying to summon more iron constructs so a raid can’t sneak past the patrols again”

“... And the people?”

Eret grimaces, now taking a cookie too and biting into it, in hopes the sweet flavor will help push away the bitterness and hurt that now coat his tongue. “Mostly people injured… There weren’t a lot of casualties but… yeah”

Techno practically deflates at this, hunched over the tiny wooden chair he is sitting in this cramped kitchen, looking as if the world is over his shoulders. 

“We were lucky you decided to help” They reassure, hoping to calm the other “If you hadn’t helped the damage would have been major, probably. Everyone’s very grateful you stepped in”

The piglin stays still, the flinch of his ears the only sign that he hasn’t magically transformed into a statue in the kitchen. Eret frowns, now looking more carefully at the Player, trying to think what could be making the other feel this bad.

“It was my fault” Techno’s voice is sudden, cutting through the silence that had fallen over the place and Eret looks puzzled at him.

“What?”

“I killed a Pillager Captain that day, and forgot about the curse. Didn’t check myself and cursed the village accidentally” 

The flash of something dark splattered over the other’s armour that day crosses Eret's mind, and they hum quietly, puzzle pieces finally falling into place.

They take a good look at Techno, his hunched figure, how he intently looked at the table, looking so small in the chair. Technoblade doesn’t say sorry, doesn’t apologizes, and Eret isn’t sure if they would have accepted one. 

If someone had told them in the past, that The Technoblade is capable of feeling guilt, they would have remembered opening a map and seeing the whole world taken over by the piglin, the banner of the Antarctic waving over the horizon, the leader who didn’t give a single bit of mercy to his enemies, and would have laughed until they cried. Technoblade seems larger than the feeling of guilt, that being capable of being sorry; the Technoblade is a warrior who slaughters hundreds, someone capable of taking over the world and not caring one bit about the consequences, someone who would watch you bleed to death and laugh over your body.

But this isn’t that Technoblade.

This is Techno, the piglin who likes to visit their house. This is Techno, who always perks up when he smells their baking, who loves his horse so much and sneaks it so many golden apples, this is Techno, who let the villagers children hang around him, who came faithfully each day, who tried bartering with the librarians and didn’t get angry when the villagers upped the trades or asked for more emeralds. This is not the Technoblade, this is Techno: who checks on them, who is always around, who doesn't care about who they are.

This is Techno.

And as he looks over the hunched figure at the other side of the table, he thinks Techno may not feel guilt but feels enough to make up for it.

“It was an accident”

“... Doesn’t matter, accident or not, it was my fault”

Eret frowns, at how tense Techno looks, and very carefully, telegraphing all of his movements because if he doesn’t the other will probably deck them from how coiled he is, grabs Technos hands, black fingers against hooved ones, and holds them, hoping the touch is comforting as they hope it is.

“Techno, it was an accident. Whether or not you caused the raid, most of the villagers are happy you helped. Without you, everything would have gone downhill”

“I…” He hesitates, and Eret smiles gently, and waits until he closes his mouth, looking torn.

“It’s okay”

Techno nods, ears down and finally, relaxed.

“Do you want another tea?”

“I… Yeah, I... I would like that”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It is slow, collecting materials to help rebuild.

Eret spends from the morning up until midday collecting wood, Mingo alongside them to help carry the logs back, old netherite axe cutting everything in its path, huge spruce trees falling over with little force. They needed to collect a lot of wood, the task spread over days, as the villagers had agreed to make the new houses more tough and resistant, so if something were to happen again, the buildings would resist.

The task is boring, but it is easy to fall into a rhythm once they start, and at least they are not alone grinding for materials. Most days Techno will show up and help, silently, transport the logs back into the warehouses that managed to be safe during the battle, red coat draped tightly against his figure as he helped cut the trees down with his impressive axe. He also brings Carl a lot, the horse that Eret finds so intimidating, who delights in plating around with Mingo in the small prairie behind the first while their owners work.

Techno doesn’t comment when he helps, and neither does Eret on it, but the time is spent comfortably, an enjoyable silent companion as they sweat and slowly decimate the forest, the piglin behind him helping replant the little saplings into the dirt, with such care it makes them smile.

Then, when the bell tolls at the late midday sun, Eret and Techno will leave the forest, horses behind carrying the worst of the weight, and get back to the village, the villagers taking the materials from them with grateful nods. Eret would go to their cottage, and make themself and Techno some sandwiches, they sitting down at the entrance of the house while the piglin leans against the wall, enjoying the spring breeze as they eat in silence.

Techno would dip his head in goodbye, hop on Carl and leave, the footprints of the hooves a permanent fixture now on the path, that never fails to make them smile.

They would rest for a short while, taking a nap and waking up violently each time, shaking limbs gripping harshly at the couch as they tried to forget the latest nightmare now haunting them, breath fast and sweat clinging to their body. They would stumble out, grabbing the used pickaxe resting besides the door, grab a handful of torches and their mining bag, and then go towards the hills behind the house, choosing one of the random caves that littered the ground and hopping in, torch bright on their hand as they explored it in search of iron, filling the bag with cobble and andesite to build. 

The caves were cold and dark, a constant wet environment for how deep the caves were, the humidity clinging to their shirt and making them uncomfortable, mud and water staining their boots, making them more than once think they were back on a trench or thrown down to a corridor to help explore it.

Mining makes them feel just bad, in general, and Eret tries to do their work as fast as possible and get the hell out of there, dumping quickly the materials in the village and then hiding in their house, trying to hide their shaking hands, a smile (or grimace most likely) fixed on their face as they tried to get back to the safety of their house and just collapse in bed, spending all the time there until hunger clawed at them and they would drag themself out of the nest, exhausted on a deep emotional level. 

Eat, and go to sleep, waking every few hours and then giving up sleep for the rest of the night after the sixth time waking with a scream stuck on their throat. They would drag themself to the kitchen and throw themself into baking, anything to get their mind off the awful memories that now haunted them at every step. 

It was… Very frustrating to say the least.

Eret had thought they were better, not having any nightmare since the Independence War but… well, dying apparently had that effect on people. Eret yearning for the time they could sleep through the night, where their most shitty time was remembering their old friends on L’manburg, not this… awful time, paranoia slowly creeping at their back every time they closed their eyes and tried to rest.

Healing is hard, they think to themself as they pour the cookie batter into the trays, and from what they know it has its ups and downs… but it didn’t stop meaning it sucked major ass, sincerely.

If Techno notices the deep bags under their glowing eyes, how frequently they would accidentally end up making something rot and wither in their hands, how sometimes they would freeze and not move for various minutes… Well, at least he didn’t comment on it out loud.

This is not to say Eret cannot confront their problems, they can! Privately, on their own mind, with no one else to see it. There is just something else about saying it outloud, about actually expressing that yes, they were going through rough times… 

It is almost humiliating, the fact that they are having this hard of a time only because they died of blood loss. They practically have the perfect life, living far away from the SMP and all of it’s drama, with a beautiful house, a very nice horse and a very kind community just beside the door, ready to help whenever they need it. It’s ridiculous, because they haven’t had it this easy in  _ decades _ and the fact that it is now, when everything is perfect, that they feel as if every single thing is going bad?

A small voice inside of them, that sounds strangely like their parent, soft and reasonable tries to say  _ “Maybe it is because you are finally in a safe environment with people you trust that you can now safely sort through your trauma, instead of repressing it like you have done all these years” _

Eret would like that voice to please, please shut up because they know it but that doesn’t mean the awful feelings go away. Sure, it is logical that now is that they are processing it, but surely it could have waited a few months, or years? Or decades?

Healing is important, sure, but Eret is not really keen on it, no thank you.

  
  


* * *

  
  


As the days progress and Spring fully settles in, the buzzing of the bees the strongest it has ever been.

The days are longer, softer almost, the sun caressing them with its gentle rays, Eret trying to spend more time outside so they don’t end up like a recluse in the middle of Summer. Techno is a welcomed company, especially now, the piglin now talking more.

It is… nice, to hear the other talk, hours upon hours about whatever crosses his mind, the voice soothing Eret’s invisible demons as they lounge on the grass and hums curiously at whatever Techno says, letting the other ramble as much as he desires.

The piglin probably notices their eye bags, their sometimes shaky hands, but continues to not bring it up, either because he does not know how to deal with the conversation or because he just wants to let them be, but either way Eret is grateful for his company.

It is startling, or confusing more likely, that their companionship has shifted to this way; after so many weeks of only them talking, but it is a nice change that they genuinely enjoy, so they just smile and encourage it. Eret likes to think they are friends, or something close to that, but if it weren’t they would still be happy, as long as the piglin is around to talk and provide a much needed company.

Techno is… very witty, now that they notice it.

The piglin’s humour is dry and quick, and more than once it makes them laugh until they cry. He is quiet, sure, but when he has the opportunity to talk, Techno is very funny and nice to be around. They would have never imagined being able to be this close to someone so surrounded in legend and myth, who had bested armies by himself and come out victorious, whose story is draped in so much red, it is practically overflowing with battles and blood. They once saw a glimpse of this, in distant lands, in another server that now feels a millenia away, with erased islands, empires of ice and planes riding the sky above.

Of an emperor, who listened to their offering and accepted a tour, who showed his palace and gave quiet and kind respect, something that Eret hadn’t known they missed until they had it back, here and now. 

It makes them think, the fact that Techno is now so far away, in this corner of the world, when they very well know the player has family and friends on the other side, brothers in the rising country of L’manburg. Sure, Technoblade has released withers into the city and helped blow it up, but this was Techno, who struggled to understand people, as they had come to learn, who had boldly stated his stance against all governments, who had brothers and a father there. 

Surely he could go back, why stay here instead?

“Hey, why are you here?” They ask, without realizing they interrupted the other in the middle of a rant about greek mythology.

“What?”

“I mean, I just noticed you… stay here, when you could be back at the SMP. Why are you here?” They turn to look at him, the piglin looking confused before grimacing a little “If you don’t want to tell it’s fine”

“I—No, It's okay uh… Well, I am currently a person non-grata there, i think”

“You think?”   
  
“Well, I mean they didn’t exactly say I was not welcomed but they  _ did _ scream at my presence a lot so…”

“ _ Ah _ , uh, okay. And the DreamSMP? You aren’t banned from there, right?”

“Uh, no but I did kill the king I think”

“... Oh, yeah you did. You killed George after he replaced me” Eret nodded. “Though I’m pretty sure no one would dare to go against you”

At this Techno’s smile falls and he goes silent, looking at the grass.

It is… calm, this small slice of peace they are having, sitting on the field and enjoying the refreshing spring breeze.

“I… Well, it wasn’t as much as I wasn’t permitted there than nobody  _ wanted _ me there” Eret flinches a little at this, and blushes, ignoring the stare the other gives him, hesitating before continuing “Plus I… Let’s say I am a little tired of the fight, it sounds a little stupid considering my whole, uh, thing but—”

“No, no! I understand” Eret breathes in, the flowery scent of the blooming trees relaxing him “I… I understand that”

They stay in silence, for a while, both enjoying the peace.

It is nice, to be like this, Eret realizes, and smiles, as Techno starts talking once again about mythology.

It is very nice.

* * *

  
  
  


The communicator rings constantly, in the chest.

The noise never seems to leave them alone when they are in their house, the constant vibrating of pouring messages continuing to fill the silent spaces that Techno’s ausence leaves in their life. The noise grates at them, more than once filling the house with its horrible noise when they wake up from some nightmare.

No matter how much they leave it alone, the communicator just… won’t stop.

Eret isn’t ashamed to say that they are  _ this _ close to just throwing the thing away. But they can’t, the little piece of technology too important to just discard. They bleed to obtain it, and they won’t let a few rotten contacts ruin what they did so much to get.

This doesn’t erase how much they still hate the constant ringing, though.

They are tempted sometimes, just so tempted to open it and scroll through the messages, to see that people cared for them actually, that someone  _ misses _ them. But do they need it? Would it really help, to see the messages asking where they are, the messages demanding their presence, the messages that ask of a version of Eret that doesn’t exist anymore?

Because that is the truth. The people they left behind miss a person that is  _ dead,  _ a person who cared for an ungrateful kingdom, a person who thought they needed power to be safe, the person who now feels so different from them it is almost as if it’s another player entirely. __

Because Eret is now another person, another Player. Experiences shaped them in ways they almost can’t recognize. They enjoy the solitude but also the company, they enjoy now the calm afternoons without anything to do, enjoy knitting, being free to wear whatever clothes they want without a care about if they looked “professional enough”, not having to wear the (now they can admit) stuffy royal pants and shirts.

If they were to see the messages, to answer any of them, to talk to the people they once considered friends… Would they still be the same person those people are now looking for? They are scared of the answer they may get.

The communicator still sits there, at the bottom of the chest, rattling with every message it receives.

For now, it will still stay there.

* * *

  
  
  


Eret had finished cutting down the trees, sprawled at the prairie where the horses are lounging around, Techno sitting beside them as they enjoy the warm sun rays on their face.

The piglin smiles whenever he sees them lounge like a cat in the sun, teasing more than once that he is surprised they haven’t started purring yet. In their defense, Techno also acts like a cat in the sun, so he shouldn’t say anything.

“Shut up Eret”

“I’m right and you know it”

It’s nice to be here, sprawled and feeling the grass underneath them, the in flower trees and the bees buzzing around, Mingo and Carl chasing each other around in the blooming prairie. It is a kind of peace Eret never thought they could enjoy, at least not for long, the only taste of this they had ever gotten having been in the beginnings of the Independence War, when the full weight of the battle hadn’t settled in and they were still all just children playing soldier, instead of soldiers that were children.

Techno seems to think the saem, looking so relaxed watching the animals play in the background, red cape pooling at his lap, long fur (not too dissimilar to hair) being played with, braiding it and then disarming it to start once again. He looks idyllic, sitting in the blooming grass and flowers, and it is with a startle that Eret realizes they truly care for this Player, that they truly trust the other to have their back.

And it doesn’t seem like the sentiment is one-sided, if they were to guide themself by how relaxed, how at ease, how  _ happy _ Techno looks here. 

They grab a few flowers and start twisting them together, trying to remember how to make good flower crowns as they enjoy the peace.

“You are making them too loose” Techno comments, still carefully braiding his hair.

“No I’m not”

“You are”

Eret glares at them playfully and holds the flower crown on their hands, showing it and face falling when the crown falls apart on their hands.

“Told you”

“Shut up” Eret tries once again, but the flowers are almost uncooperative and they now pout, watching it fall apart once again, even more faster than the previous attempt.

“Make it so each flower is flush with each other, and twist it tightly” Techno advises, and to their surprise it works, and scowls at the smug smile of the other.

“How the hell do you even know how to make flower crowns?”

“My bro…” Techno pauses, hand stilling as he sighs and continues on “Someone once teached me”

Sensing a possible sensitive theme, Eret stays silent, finishing it and smiling, plopping it on their head proud.

“Which color do you want yours?”

“Uh, I don’t know?”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Blue”

“Blue it is then” Eret stretches and grabs a bunch of cornflowers, starting to make a crown, the second attempt noticeable better than the last.

Without much fanfare, they finish it and put it on Techno’s head, the piglin only pausing to take off the golden crown and adjust the flower one better, fingers back to braiding the hair.

Nodding satisfied, Eret let themself fall back into the grass and close their eyes, enjoying this short peace and happiness while it lasted.

They stay there for a few hours, Eret practically dozing off, until the sun grows too harsh over their heads.

They soon go back to the cottage, Techno clutching in one hand his crown and in the other Carl’s leash, Eret besides him, lopsided flower crown on their head and Mingo walking beside them. They leave the horses in the back, and enter, Techno hanging his cape at the entrance and going instantly for the kitchen, practically at ease in the space.

It is a clear difference to the Techno of a few weeks ago, who had sat down on that table nervously and told them they had caused the raid, and it just makes Eret smile more.

They bring out some pies and Techno retrieves some stew he brought from his house, the two eating in enjoyable silence and occasionally talking about Eret’s plans on the village, most of the houses by now finishes and only leaving the reinforcing of the buildings now.

When they finish, Eret collects the dishes and says goodbye to Techno, the piglin now leaving to go back to his base and own village. 

The house is practically silent, the silence occasionally interrupted by a muted vibration of the communicator in the chest, but otherwise fine. Eret yawns and throws themself onto the couch, flower crown carefully settled down on the coffee table beside them.

It has been a nice day, and Eret can only hope more comes soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter pog!!!! Mostly fluff and vague foreshadowing for events to come :)  
> Also, bc it can be confusing, the timeline rn is middle of spring (like, one and half month has passed since the raid yep). 
> 
> I though i updated this last week but it was almost 2 weeks ago and I didn't even realize I'm speechless. In my defense I have like a super important exam soon that i didn't study at all and i got obsessed with a one-shot about tiny techno ksjdfhksjdfks  
> This was suppossed to have other stuff in it but the chapter took a completely new path and i just was along for the ride, rip to that scene i spent like a week daydreaming about and didn't include. There's always next chapter ig.


	6. I Must Make You The Perfect Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret hadn’t planned on falling asleep on the living, and they try to ignore the smug smile of Techno at their fluffy bright purple slippers, as they scramble to their room and quickly change out of their old clothes, the piglin now laughing at them.
> 
> “Listen! They are very comfortable slippers!”
> 
> “Ah, so that's why they are bunny shaped”
> 
> “Oh, fuck off”
> 
> \-------------------
> 
> Techno, Eret and their friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Eret gets terrorized by horses, the chapter.
> 
> Original title: The Bug Collector by Haley Heynderickx
> 
> ALSO!!!!! TWO VERY LOVELY PERSONS MADE FANART OF THIS FIC!!!!! GO CHECK IT OUT, REBLOG, RETWEET, GIVE THEM SOME LOVE SINCE ITS SO COOL!!!!!!
> 
> [by @JulisRache on twt](http://twitter.com/JulisRache/status/1340836120339374082)
> 
> [by @netheritenugget on Tumblr](http://netheritenugget.tumblr.com/post/639025074849169408/im-so-so-happy-to-finally-be-able-to-post-this)

The day begins slowly, as it seems to be doing everyday for the past week.

Eret wakes up very slowly, nightmares clinging to their skin like an old lover, as they very tiredly blink the sleep away from their eyes and look to their ceiling. They stay like this for a few minutes, contemplating the roof and not moving, as if waiting for the aftermaths of the nightmare to finally go away before trying to move like a living person.

Taking off the now sweat-covered sheets, Eret stretches out and sighs, breathing in the calming scent of his bedroom to ground himself. They look over their wardrobe, grimacing at the options. Eret is so tempted to simply stay on their shorts and big shirt that work as pajamas, but they know they shouldn’t stay on sleeping clothes but they also do not find any clothes appealing. With heavy heart, Eret picks one of the newest shirts they made and the old overalls that one of the farmers gifted them, they cannot be as lazy as to stay in bed all day. The fabric is somewhat itchy against their skin, but it is grounding enough and that's honestly all that Eret needs.

They methodically make their breakfast, not feeling hungry enough, and ignoring their shaking hands. They grumble when they accidentally spill some of the water, but continue on, knowing that in a few minutes it’ll pass. It’s the aftermath that's worse, they muse, cleaning the water spilled and taking a moment to breathe deeply and try to calm their trembling.

Nightmares suck, Eret thinks decisively, and carefully pours the water into the mug, putting as much sugar as they can.

It tastes terribly, horrible sweet, and it’s just what they needed, something relaxing as they now sip at the hot tea. They mentally go over their task today, not in any hurry when they know Techno will not come by today for food. Something about nagging blonds, and surprisingly enough, emeralds? Eret wasn’t sure what the piglin was talking about, they just nodded absently and continued baking that afternoon. 

Today Techno won’t come, and probably tomorrow too, and hum as they think what they can do for now. Maybe work on the barn? It was becoming too tiny for Mingo, especially when Techno frequently left Carl with her, so maybe it was time they expanded it a little. Plus the chickens would like more space too. They didn’t have any tasks today in the village, since today was market day, and they didn’t feel like being around people.

It wasn’t that they were antisocial, it’s just they had grown so used to silence and loneliness back at the castle, their time occupied in working and working, some days it is hard to snap out of that mindset, large crowds only managing to stir the anxiety in their gut. It is manageable, and if in need be, they can go to places with lots of people, but they prefer not to, using the day for themself most of the cases now that they live in the cottage.

They checked the cupboards and frowned, okay, probably will have to restock again… But that could be done tomorrow. Eret groaned, resting their head against the door of the cupboard. Okay, then, what the hell can he do today? There is almost nothing to bake, which is their preferred past time, nor do they have any new books, most of them loaned from the librarians and already read to the point it makes them drowsy even thinking about reading the stories again.

They stare at their clothes, pouting, before an idea manages to come to mind.

Oh, this could be fun.

Grabbing their sword, shears and a basket, Eret enthusiastically put on their boots and went outside, taking Mingo out of her stable. Yeah, today could be a little adventure, just for themself. A little something, to shake up the monotony of their life. It would be fun!

* * *

  
  
  


The adventure wasn’t going well.

Not that they were suffering or anything, but no matter how much Eret looked, they didn’t manage to find more than a few couple of flowers. And no sheep were around, too. They looked at the crumpled and tiny cornflowers on the basket and grimaced, it was too little for what they had in mind, but they weren’t finding anything.

At least Mingo was enjoying herself, they thought pouting, watching the mare joyfully eat the apples out of the branches of the trees nearby.They laughed and shook their head, it didn’t matter, if they didn’t find anything here on the spruce biome then they should try going out to other biomes. The prairie of the other day was out of the question, entirely, since what they were planning was a surprise and they didn’t want Techno to notice, and a clear lack of cornflowers from the previously full field would be super telling. 

They entertained the idea of using a little of the lapis lazuli they had stored, but the dye would be too strong for the fabric and it would stain too easily, the dye too frail and would only end up washing off in a few uses. They only had to remember Fundy’s failed attempt with fabric and lapis lazuli dye back in the revolution, the almost pastel suit they ended up with, to turn the idea away entirely.

They paused, frowning a little at the thought, hands fiddling with Mingo’s bride.

Fundy…

It’s… It’s been some time since they had thought about the fox. They gulped, and sighed, trying to turn away the now overflowing memories. It wasn’t that they hated Fundy, no, never; but… It hurt a little to think about him. Well, no a little, a lot but anyway.

They wondered how Fundy was holding up, concern filling them when they thought about the last time they had seen the other, grieving the absentee father that had died. Fundy was always… bright, in some sort of way, feeling so intensely, as if fearing he would never feel again. A minor slight was the greatest injury, ignoring someone the greatest offense, the fox so sensible it was almost inspiring. He had also inherited Wilbur’s charm, no matter how much he had tried to deny it. 

They missed Fundy… A lot.

That was one of the things Eret most missed from back there, if they had to be honest. Leaving Fundy, Niki or Tubbo behind hurt deeply, but having to leave Fundy was altogether another issue on its own. They were thick as thieves, or at least, that's what they thought before. Fundy and Eret, Eret and Fundy. The hybrid had gravitated naturally towards the fox, easily enchanted with his intelligence and charm, a breath of air in the tense atmosphere that was Old L’manburg, back when it was just a van stinking of drugs, will flimsy walls, kids pretending to be bigger than the big bad monster that they thought the others to be. They missed Fundy so dearly, it hurt, a gap missing in their chest where the fox’s presence would usually sooth.

They thought back at the communicator hidden on a chest, vibrating with the ever coming messages, but quickly turned away the thought.

No, they couldn’t contact Fundy. The other had been the one to turn them away, leaving them alone. They wouldn’t come crawling back, like a beaten up dog to it’s neglectful owners. They wouldn’t. They were above that, surely, they wouldn’t come begging for scraps of attention, they were better than that.

  
  


… It didn’t erase how much they missed Fundy.

Sighing, Eret jumped on Mingo’s back and guided her towards the south, it was time they moved on to another biome in search of flowers. And trying to find some wild sheeps for wool, it was frustrating how hard it was to find them. They were sheeps, for End’s sake! Not ancient debris.

* * *

  
  
  


It was very late at night when Eret returned home, mud and dirt clinging to their clothes, as they tiredly desmounted Mingo and left her at the stable with a new ration of hay and carrots.

The moon hung over the sky, silent and ever watchful as they cleaned their boots on the mat (Techno had gotten it for them, a scruffy and old thing with the words Home printed in one corner) and entered their house. They passed a hand through their hair, grimacing at the tangles and dirt that now covered their hair, making a note to wash it up after taking their boots off.

They were tired, but they still hung the boots on the entrance, put some water to boil and lit some candles, too tired to put them into some lanterns. Grabbing a change of clothes, they grabbed the kettle and went into the bathroom, taking everything off and sitting on the empty crude bathtub, grabbing a bucket and slowly pouring the water over their head, sighing and relaxing at the warmth.

One of the drawbacks of living here was the lack of hot water, they thought grimacing, as they carefully cleaned their hair. Back on the castle, they had managed to get Sam to hook up the showers and bathrooms with redstone for hot water and all commodities one could think of. Damn, they had it easy back then. Sighing, they patted around until they managed to find the bottle with the shampoo, one they had managed to trade for eggs back at the village and that smelled annoyingly of wheat and grass, and dumped it over the hair, scrunching their nose as the smell assaulted their nose. 

At least they had shampoo, they thought despairingly, as they carefully washed the long hair. It could have been worse, they thought but that still didn’t manage to push away the distaste at the smell.

Once they found themself somewhat clean, they changed into a long dress shirt, knowing they would end up wetting it entirely with sweat over the night. 

They clean the bathroom, throwing the now dirty water outside the window, and go back into the kitchen, searching for anything to eat. The basket with the wool and the flowers taunts them from the living room, but they ignore it firmly, they won’t work on it right now. They want to save it for when they wake up just too tired from nightmares and when the spring rain won’t let them outside.

They throw together a meager sandwich and eat tiredly, looking outside the window and watching the mobs wandering around. It is late, yet they dread even entertaining the idea of going to bed, knowing they will wake up from a nightmare at one point or another, a scream stifled in their throat. The night terrors haven’t stopped, a daily routine by now, haunting them in their every step, like a hound followed the prey’s trail. 

They wonder what possible crime they could have commited in one past life, to now be cursed in this one with nightmares at every night and haunting his day. Was this karma, for being a king? Karme for betraying L’manberg?

They were sorry, it’s true, but if the opportunity presented itself again they doubted they wouldn’t do it again. 

The idea of peace, of being free of conflict was tantalizing, and while Eret regretted betraying their friends since it hadn’t worked out in the end, if presented the opportunity to have peace they wouldn’t hesitate. But they were free now, alone in a cottage in the woods, with a horse and a few chickens as the only permanent company and a bloodthirsty and awkward piglin as a friend. 

Freedom, they thought as they finished their sandwich, was so elusive yet so glaringly obvious. 

They mingled around, for a little while, still not wanting to go to sleep, but their eyes burned and their hands shook from how tired they were, so they sighed and went to bed, putting out the candles and laying down on the soft blankets.

The night was riddled with nightmares, Eret turning around in their sleep, as the heavy memories of a past long gone and friends once abandoned haunted their dreams, the imaginary scent of blood haunting them until they woke up for the sixth time awake, hands gripping tightly at their shirt, which crumbled to ash quickly as they unsuccessfully tried to regain power over their powers. 

They stared at the crumbling shirt, and breathed deeply, closing their eyes tightly.

It’s fine, it’s fine, they whisper to themself as they close their eyes and try to not see their hands shake, it’s fine, this is absolutely fine.

They don’t know how long they stay like this, staring at the ashes of the shirt in their silent bedroom. How long has it been since this happened? The last time Eret can remember withering their clothes because of a nightmare was ages ago, when the DreamSMP was but a distant flicker of an idea in the mind of the Admin. How low have they fallen, they think bitterly, how far must they fall before they can get out of this ditch?

Is this what it feels like losing control? Eret thinks it must be similar, watching the control they once thought iron be now toppled over by a flimsy nightmare. It is infuriating, it is hurtful and it just makes them want to burrow under the bed and cry as if they were a child once again.

They were feared, once, and probably still are. The harbinger of Chaos, the soldiers liked to call them, jeering from the sidelines at the child that carried the war. “ _Where does she go, peace dies”_ And isn’t that the truth? No matter how much they run, no matter how much they try, they always end up at the beginning.

In a foolish war, at the orders of higher men who like to think themself better than anyone else. 

What a mockery, they think bitterly, and get out of bed. No sense to waste time on such hopelessness, not when morning is coming and the sun is finally shining down upon this cursed land. They quickly change and start working, trying to keep themselves occupied to not worry about what horrid memories haunt their mind. Work is there to be done, and as they start opening their windows and letting the fresh breeze of late spring in, they eye the loom gathering dust in the corner of their house and gears start to turn.

There is always something to be done, and Eret has never been more grateful about it.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Eret wakes up the third day to loud knocking on their door.

They fall down the sofa they had fallen asleep on, and curse loudly, as they get up. They blink a little and curse again, scrambling to take one of the sheets and put it over the loom, just as the door opens and their guest arrives. They smile, or grimace more likely, as Techno gives an absent hello as he puts his red cape on the hanger.

Eret hadn’t planned on falling asleep on the living, and they try to ignore the smug smile of Techno at their fluffy bright purple slippers, as they scramble to their room and quickly change out of their old clothes, the piglin now laughing at them.

“Listen! They are very comfortable slippers!”

“Ah, so that's why they are bunny shaped”

“Oh, fuck off”

Techno snorts, a throaty sound, as he gently deposits his crown on the table and helps bring the food to it, the two of them walking through the tiny kitchen and weaving around the other as they set the table. Eret silently thanks that they always leave the bread baked the night before, as they bring out the warm food. Techno today bought some butter and a few berries, which is always a welcomed thing since Eret _hates_ with burning passion even trying to milk a cow.

“How was your...uh, thing?” Eret asks as they sit down, quickly taking one of the warm loaves from the bread basket and biting into it, absolutely hungry from having spent most of the night awake.

“My thing?”

“Your… uh” Eret paused, eyebrows burrowing as they tried to remember “The visit… yeah, the visit!”

“Phil’s visit?”

“Yeah” Eret nodded, internally thankful Techno hadn’t made them say the name because they had absolutely forgotten it.

“Went very well! Phil decided to come by and we spent most of the time together, it was very fun”

“Yeah?”

“Phil’s super cool, though I think he came by because he wanted some distractions”

“Uh? Wait, why? Did something happen?” Eret paused, looking at Techno intrigued as the piglin shrugged.

“I don’t know, apparently New L’Manburg got into a bit of a problem”

“Phil lives in New L’manburg???”

“... Yeah. That’s why… he isn’t living with me… Because he’s back on L’manburg”

“...right” Eret ignored the stare Techno gave them “Anyways, what trouble?”

“Listen, you are gonna laugh at this one, apparently Dream got mad with someone there for… Griefing, I think? Anyways, he got mad and hear this… He put up walls”

“Walls?”

“Obsidian walls, all around New L’manburg”

“...Oh” Something squirmed uncomfortably inside of their gut at the mental image.

“Yeah! Such a shame though, the country was starting to look good” Techno takes a bite out of the bread, and munches thoughtfully “It was really looking good, which is a miracle, really, but Oh well”

“What’s the deal with the walls?”

“Apparently Dream wants to intimidate them, or is demanding something, i don’t know. I don’t care for that green man at all”

“...The other day you were bitching about how “ominous” he was being”

“.... Listen!”

Eret laughed at Techno’s embarrassed face, squeaking when the piglin stood up. Jumping over the chair, Eret ran away, an angry and laughing Techno hot on their heels as they weaved between the house, in a very childish olay of tag, chasing each other and laughing.

“Shit!” Eret crashed against the lamp on the living and went down, hard, hand scrambling against anything to not fall and catching the tablecloth, causing then for all of the things on the table to also come down into the floor with them. 

They blinked owlishly, watching the butter, the bread, the lamp and everything else now in the floor. Techno also paused, and blinked bemused at the sight, before breaking out into laughs, the two of them starting the boring duty of cleaning up.

“I really need to file down my claws” Eret laughed, as the tablecloth continued to get stuck on their hands, Techno laughing too hard to even help “Keep laughing and next time I will put sugar into your butter”

Once everything is cleaned, Eret sighs, sprawling over the sofa, as Techno takes the loveseat. 

“Hey, I saw the stable. Did you expand it?”

Eret perked up, using their elbows to prop themself up and nodded furiously “Yeah! It was getting a little cramped from how frequently Carl and Mingo end up there, so I decided to expand it a little more”

Techno hummed, nodding, picking up his crown and plopping the thing on his head “Did you use other wood? It looked different”

“Yeah! I originally used spruce, since, yknow, it's like the only wood here. But while you were stuck with Phil I decided to explore a little and I found a nice oak and birch forest to the west! And since the building is already cobble and spruce, I wanted to find something more bright for a nice accent”

Techno nodded, like he knew what the other was talking about, when in reality it all were just words without any meaning to him.

“You used the light one, i saw”

“Yeah! But like, horses need around like 2.5 meters so they can jump and climb whatever their stupid heart desire, so I made the furnishing inside of the roof with oak slabs” And off Eret went into a tangent about building, which was quickly all lost to Techno, who only nodded and hummed in the moments he thought appropriate. Builder bullshit, he thought privately, and just continued to spur Eret on on his rant.

Mid-rant, Techno suddenly gasps and stands up fast, startling Eret so much they end up, once again, on the floor. 

“I remember, I came today extra early because I wanted to show you something!” Eret blinks bemusedly, but accepts the hand the other extends.

“You want to show me what?”

“You’ll see, you’ll see” Techno says, pushing them towards the door “Put your boots on, come on, hurry”

Eret makes it extra slow, just to spite the other, but they soon end up outside, mid-morning sun hidden behind the clouds. Mingo nickers from the stable, head peeking from it, a dark brown horse whining too. Ah, Carl is here. Techno pushes them towards the horse, and gets the two animals out, passing Eret a lead and jumping on Carl, the horse barely moving from the added weight.

“Get on, come on, I want to show you”

Rolling their eyes, Eret mounts Mingo, the mare shuffling a little before starting to follow Carl, much slower than Techno’s horse. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere!” Techno exclaims from the front, “Hurry up, isn’t your horse faster?”

“Mingo is very fast, thank you very much. Not our fault your horse is like on another level”

“Have you tried getting good?”

Eret huffs and shares a look with Mingo, the mare just continuing in the same slow pace behind the other. Slowly, the terrain changes, and Eret blinks owlishly as the tundra opens up and swallows the two, Mingo is forced to walk in Carl’s footsteps so as to not lag behind.

The snow is very high, despite the fact that it is late spring (Almost Summer practically), which isn’t _that_ surprising considering Techno had told them how cold the place was, but it is still a little chilling to see. How the piglin is able to stand this cold, is literally above Eret’s mind, as their teeth chatter and they huddle in the saddle, cursing the fact that they had dressed so lightly. Although it is cloudy, it hasn’t started snowing yet, so Eret will take the few victories they can.

They don’t know how long they ride for, but it is around, they think, late noon that they finally see a village. It is only spruce buildings, with a few villagers nodding respectfully at Techno and staring blatantly at them, in their soft greens and browns, so different from the bright white and pale blues of the villager’s clothes. They surely must be a strange sight to see, they think, as a few villagers trail behind them.

This place seems very far and untouched, so Eret is probably right in thinking they are the third Player these villagers have seen. And how different they must be to Philza, the smiling blond, or Technoblade, the tall piglin. A human, with bright eyes, smelling of the nether, with black skin crawling up their hands and splotches of it spread randomly through their skin. What a sight, they think, and hide a smile as the villager’s kid gape and point at them. It is a little uncomfortable, though they know it stems from how different they must look and not out of malice, but the stares are prickling on their skin so they just duck their head and continue on.

Soon they leave the village behind, much to their confusion, and continue on, the terrain now rough and elevated with small hills and hidden holes. They carefully guide Mingo, making sure to follow exactly Carl's steps, the tall beast easily cutting through the tall snow without any pause. 

“Uh… Techno?” They say, as they see a cabin in the distance they pass by without looking “Uhh…”

“Don’t worry about it” He drawls, almost bored “We are almost there”

“It isn’t the cabin?”

“Nope”

“You sure?”

“Yeap”

Eret grimaces and just wishes they could arrive quickly, their nose starting to hurt from the cold they breath.

“Wait here” Techno signals, dismounting Carl and passing them the lead of the animal.

“Wait, wait, Techno!”

“Just wait here a sec!” And before they can’t say anything more, Techno disappears between the snowy hills, the snow practically up to his mid-thigh.

Mingo whines, but stays quiet at the pets Eret offers her, kicking at the snow as if in search of grass. Eret ends up staring at Carl, the huge horse still towering over them even while mounting Mingo, which shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is, but maybe there is some truth in the saying that pets are similar to their owners.

_But Techno isn’t that intimidating,_ they think almost hysterically as they continue staring at Carl in hopes that if they don’t stop looking the horse will not move, _why is Carl more intimidating?_

Because, their mind whisper, a good kick and you would be as good as dead. Horses are the flimsiest and more capricious motherfuckers there are…. Thanks, brain, very cool.

Carl hasn’t even done anything to them, the horse mostly just stands there and ignores them, preferring to spend their time with Mingo; but the horse is just… so big? It is terrifying, they are pretty sure they barely reach his chest, which is stupid because they aren’t short, they are actually very tall… but this horse is just? Bigger? Horses shouldn’t be this tall. A snap from his teeth and Eret is pretty sure they would instantly die.

“You ready?!” Techno screams from somewhere, startling them, for the third time today. They look around but can’t manage to find the piglin, which shouldn’t be possible, it is literally a bright pink pig in the middle of the snow, how can they not find a piglin in the middle of the snow?

“Y—Yeah?”

There is the sound of a button and then, in front of them, the floor opens and falls apart, the sound of pistons, slime and honey blocks filling their ears as they watch the opening to very wide and tall stairs. Techno appears from somewhere, head filled with snow, smiling as they take Carl’s lead from them and guide them inside. 

The inside is very warm, and they practically melt at this, sighing in content as the cold finally abandons their bones. They are guided downstairs and gape at the sight of like 20 horses milling around, with very tall grass to graze, a small fountain and hay bales thrown around. Shroomlights hang from above, bathing the whole underground room in a warm yellow.

“W—what?” 

“You think Carl is my only horse?”

“Wh—Why would you need more horses?!”

“A man has his hobbies” Grinning at their awe, Techno takes Carl’s leash and saddle off, letting the horse mingle now with the other animals. “Come on, I want you to meet Percy and Andrew”

“Percy? Andrew??” They dismount Mingo and let her also free, the mare trailing behind Carl as the other horses gather around. 

“My best horse” Techno is practically preening at this, but something warm curls in their chest at techno’s clear pride and happiness, so they stay silent “Carl is with me a lot, but Percy is the true horse and Andrew is the fastest”

He then whistles sharply, and two horses approach. The first one is a very dark brown, with black at the limbs and the longest mane Eret has ever seen. If royalty were to be incarnated in a horse, Eret is pretty sure this horse would be the closest thing. Techno smiles, something so soft and fond, unlike any smile Eret has seen before, and it is with a startle that they realize Techno must trust them a lot if they are willing to show them his horses.

A warm something touches their neck, and when they look back there is an enormous horse, a very soft beige with a short white mane. The horse is, dare they say it, almost chubby looking, but it is clear it is pure muscle. It is easily taller than Carl, and the horse just stares into their eyes and huffs, tail flicking fast behind it. 

They take a few steps back, but the horse follows, and Eret has been around enough horses to know when one is close to attacking (or kicking) someone, so they aren’t ashamed in the slightlest in yelping and practically hiding behind Techno when the horse gets even closer. What is up with Techno and terrifying horses? 

“That's Percy, he’s the best one here” Techno says, patting the horse’s head “And the brown one is Andrew, he is the fastest of the herd”

“Why the hell do you have horses so tall?!” They whisper-yell, yelping when Percy tries getting closer. “It is so unnecessary… Why?”

“You get nervous around Carl, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity to present you to the Real Threats”

“I am almost afraid to ask why you call them “Real Threats””

Techno laughs, and shooes the horses away, turning around to look at Eret with a smile. “I cannot believe you are afraid of my horses”

“Listen… they are very tall”

“They are horses, Eret”

“Mingo is a horse, yours are like, like an abomination” They gesture to the herd behind “Look, some of them are horse-appropriate size. Carl, Andrew, Percy? Hell no”

“I needed War horses”

Eret stares blankly at Techno.

“Technoblade, Percy is like, double your height… Why the hell do you need so tall horses?!”

“Intimidation”

“.... You are a very very strange man, Mr. Blade”

Techno just stares blankly, until he cracks up and laughs, and Eret can’t help but sigh fondly and push the other away. Yeah, yeah, very funny.

“You wanted to show me your horses?”

“Yeah, man, it was hilarious”

“Oh, fuck off” Eret laughes, and calls Mingo back “Do you have any coat around here I could borrow?”

“Uh… why?”

“Techno… Techno it’s snowy outside” At the blank stare, they continue on “Techno it’s snowy outside and I’m dressed in Spring’s clothes”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, Oh. It was freezing the way here, don’t you have anything I could borrow?”

“Uhhh… I might have something at my house?”

“Why is it a question”

“Listen… I do not know what is at my house, I just cope with what I have”

“Techno… Techno it is literally your house”

The piglin just shrugs and gets Carl back, ignoring Eret questions as he puts the saddle on and mounts the animal. They get out of the underground room, the other ignoring Eret all the way up. They know it is in good nature, so it all slowly trails off into silence, as they focus on trying to not shiver out of the horse, wind picking up as they walk towards, what Eret guessed, they had seen the cabin before.

It was a nice cabin, they thought, as they tied Mingo to the fence and got inside, practically sprawling against the on-going fireplace. The walls are a cold white, but the floor and roof is made with spruce, a warm and inviting color against the harsh, they guess, concrete. They can hear Techno walking around, probably searching for some clothes appropriate for the cold outside. They looked around, focused on the details and paintings, not noticing the enderman in a boat until they basically stumbled with the boat and ended inside of it, the enderman staring curiously at them.

They flinched, averting their gaze, as the enderman stared at them. It wooped a greeting at them, and Eret wacked their brain for an appropriate answer, ending up saying a very pathetic woop back. It apparently was enough, since the enderman nodded, and carefully helped them out of the boat, going back to staring at the grass on their hands. Enderman were nice, they thought as they searched through their inventory and delicately deposited a flower in the clump of grass the mob was holding, the ender giving a delighted vwoop at the addition.

“You understand it?”

Eret jumped and looked back at Techno, the piglin carrying thick furs that he deposited on a nearby loveseat before starting to look through the clothes in search of something wearable.

“Uh, yeah. Why is an enderman here?”

“It’s my roommate” 

“I'm sorry?” Eret blinked, confused.

“It’s name is Edward” Techno unhelpfully added, attention back at the clothes.

Why did Techno have an enderman as a roommate???

“Here!” the piglin thrusted a very fluffy thing into their arms “Hopefully this will fit you”

It was a cloak, a brown so faded it was practically beige, with a smooth outside and a very fluffy inside, the collar of it having even a bit of fur lining it. Eret had to admit this had a very perfect craftsmanship, not even a single hint of missed stitch in the cloak. They try it on and it fits almost perfectly, sure it is short from length, but the hood fits fine and the fur is so soft to the touch they could fall asleep right here.

“Thanks Techno” They said, so grateful, as they adjusted the buttons and smiled at the cloak.

“No problem” The piglin drawled, opening the doors “Come on, if we hurry we might just get back before night falls”

“Coming!” Eret called, stopping before Edward and patting gently the clump of grass before continuing on, joining Techno on the outside.

They mounted the horses and went off, a silence akin to companionship filling the gaps words couldn’t fill. As they walked, Eret made a mental note to stock up on food on the way back.

It is going to be Summer soon, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could be kind of weird but thats bc i wrote it at 12 AM and it is now,,,, 4 AM....
> 
> We are slowly getting to the fic's heart and yall,,, i canNOT WAIT FOR IT!!! Also the streams today absolutely destroyed me and i am now firmly ignoring canon, yes sir.
> 
> Once again, go check out @netheritenugget and @JulisRache and go retweet/reblog their art and leave nice comments!!! This is a Threat I am Telling You!


	7. Let’s Weave A Little House Out Of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They considered their options, before deciding it was better to simply continue on with their day. They had already read the majority of the backlog anyways, so it didn’t matter if they took a rest, right? Setting carefully the communicator down on top of the lid of the chest, they stretched and yawned, opening the door of the cottage.
> 
> There was still work to be done
> 
> \-------------
> 
> Gifts are a necessary thing, aren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt title: Bicon very tired and is relatable(tm)
> 
> Original Title from: Birth A Basket, from Cosmo Sheldrake.
> 
> *vibes at like 0.00000000005% slow* its 7 am and ive been writing all night long

There is a lot of progress to be made on projects when one is bored.

Or, actually if one were to be accurate, there is a lot of progress one can do _when_ procrastinating for another task. The mantle they are making is soon taking shape, mid-way from two intense days of only working on the loom while they procrastinate on other things they should actually be doing, but who cares when one has a loom and a bunch of spinned wool and cotton?... Exactly

Yeah, sure, Eret may have promised to read the backlog of private messages because the buzzing of the communicator is about to drive them insane and Techno managed to make them promise to do it but consider this: They _really_ really don’t want to. So they aren’t doing it. Simply as that.

It isn’t as much as the fact of reading it (although it is a big factor, the communicator settings may let him put more readable font but he will always have some difficulty reading it, since dyslexia is always a bitch and a half to deal with), but the mere anxiety that swelled on their chest at the simple thought of reading months worth of what people had sent to them in private messages. 

Eret knows they fucked up, when leaving. And they don’t regret it, let's make it clear, if given the opportunity Eret would do it again in a single heartbeat but...

They… They had been selfish, in leaving, they can recognize now (or they think that, at least). They left so many of their friends behind, without a thought, and while some part inside of them argued that it was justified, when their so called friends abandoned them to the hatred of the server, with barbed comments dripping with hostility they still… They still had been their friends, right?

Niki was always there for them, no matter if lately she had only gone to them when needing to vent; Tubbo was such a nice kid, a very good friend of them who managed to stay despite the betrayal back in the war, and sure, Tubbo sometimes would ignore and ignore and ignore them but… 

They groaned, and let their head fall onto the loom, ignoring how the string pressed against their forehead. It was simply… Too complicated, yeah, that was what they were going to go with. Too complicated. They simply weren’t ready for such a loaded thought, especially so late in the afternoon, so they just shoved those thoughts into a dark dark corner and ignored them, like they did with all of their problems, and went back to the loom. It was difficult work, to weave the dyed spinned wool between the tense strings, without accidentally setting off their wither effect.

More than once they had to cut the thread, and Eret silently had thanked each time their enderman genetics, for letting the sharp nails (claws they are pretty sure it's at this point) cut the string without a worry of the ends fraying loose, unlike when they used the scissors. Nonetheless, it was very hard work, and Eret easily lost themself in it for the day without a pause, only taking breaks to uncramp their hands so they could continue on. The mantle, for now, is halfway done, the light blue a sight to behold in their hands. Letting it rest on the loom, they pick up the other bundle at their feet. They go outside and let the bundle fall onto the bench behind the stables, the wooden table rattling underneath the weight.

This was the second part of the piece of clothing they were making, and the most complicated so far if they had to be honest. They take the bundle out and spread it, various squares with rabbit hides spread over wire and wood frames, they grab the nearest skin and take it out of its frame, they test how dry the skin is. They do the same with several other hides, until they have an appropriate pile besides them. They set to work, starting to fold the hide in various warks, using a small mallet when it was too difficult to do so. Once it was pliable, they grabbed the mix nearby and started to cover the coat, so the fur would stay mostly firm.

A few hours later, with enough furs, they set to the actual work, starting to sew together the hides, the thick needle piercing the leather and putting it together. It was hard, despite how much time they had put into making the fur more pliable. Still, this assured them in some way it would be durable. The fur collar was coming along nicely, around two palms thick, and it was still soft to the touch despite how much Eret handled it. 

It was perfect, as it should be, because this was a gift and Eret _needed_ it to be perfect. That was the rule, wasn’t it? Gifts needed to be perfect, and since this was a big project, it should buy them enough time to think of something else to prepare. Techno didn’t need food anymore, since he had started to also bring food, so they needed to find something, something to stay.

Their hands were prickled to the Nether and back, and they were pretty sure the fingertips had fallen asleep, a painful tingling sensation running up their wrist whenever they tried to flex the hand. It was awful, and it made them grimace as they tried to ride out the worst of the sensation. They should probably take a break, let their hands rest, but that would mean having to face something else and they were seriously not ready for that.

But some hours later they had to stop, night having fallen over the sky and the torches too low to let them see well where they were supposed to sew the fur together. With an angry huff, they stored the remaining furs still not processed into the chest filled with ice that they used as a rudimentary refrigerator, so nothing would decay, and then took the bundle that they had managed to sew inside. They had other parts already done, it was a simple matter of tying it all together, but their hands were cramped and they had already made emergency cuts into the furs so the wither effect wouldn’t ruin the complete piece.

Sighing, very tiredly, they deposited the piece under the loom, where the spinned wool and the cotton they had traded with the village was, and grabbed the blanket and put it over the instruments, leaving it finally out of sight. It was a surprise, the project, and while Techno hadn't been around for a few days, there was still the ever present anxiety of the loom and its contents being found.

They leaned back, and stretched gently, as their back popped and relaxed finally from its tense posture. Scratching their chin, they hummed and wandered into the kitchen, starting to search for something to eat. They weren’t particularly hungry, but they had been working on the loom for so long, more than half a day, that they surely needed the nourishment. Unfortunately, the pantry was almost empty, and they resigned themself into eating the batch of granola they had made, grabbing a quill from the counter and writing in the list they had on the wall to make more. There were still months for winter, but it never hurt to prepare beforehand. Plus, the extra could easily be traded in the village for either more folds of cloth or tools.

They sat on the kitchen table, as the light of the candles flickered in the dimmed room, and forced themself into chewing the granola. It was dry and sickly sweet, probably from how much honey and dried berries they had thrown into the mix. The cottage was silent if not for the white noise that came from the living room. Well.. “white noise” supposedly, since it was a constant low buzz, yet it grated on Eret’s ears so much, it overwhelmed them sometimes, from the mere fact it simply wouldn’t stop. 

The only solution they had was to get out of the house, but it was already night and despite being good at fighting, Eret wasn’t tempted into trying their luck outside. It was non-stop the noise, coming from the chest that was nearby the entrance, where Eret had shoved most of their stuff and tools. Despite being buried beneath all of their armour, tools and junk, the communicator was very loud on their ears, constantly distracting them and keeping them awake in the dark of the night. It was a constant reminder of what they had left, or how they probably would never be free of their past. A bitter reminder of betrayals and abandonment.

They tried to keep ignoring it, trying to pick up a book and continue to carefully read it, but the disturbance would constantly pull them out of their concentration. They tried to fill the small journal they had, where they wrote down important reminders and sometimes drew small doodles into the pages, but as soon as they opened in the page they had left it last time, they stared at the bitter reminder, that was underlined in thick angry lines, that said “Check Comms”. Then, they tried going to their bedroom and laying down, but the sound still could be heard through the thin walls, no matter how much they tossed in bed or tried to block it out with the pillows. 

Maybe they weren’t even hearing it, it was simply the dark pool of anxiety in their stomach that reminded them every second about the fact that the communicator was there, buzzing and buzzing and buzzing, without stopping. And it would not stop, not until Eret read the messages, not until Eret confronted the problem and read the backlog of information of their private channels, to see with their own two eyes the probably hateful messages that had accumulated during the year and some months they had been away from the whole server.

The moon was almost low in the sky, hanging with judgemental eyes at their figure as Eret paced in front of their window. It was very late, maybe almost late enough into the night for it to be now early morning. They… They couldn’t put it off more, could they? What use, would it be? If they didn’t do it now, then it would mean more and more messages that they would have to face later.

With a groan, they dragged themself into the main room of the cottage and took a deep breathe, staring holes into the chest that contained one of their biggest worries right now. The lid croaked noisily as it opened, and they cringed at the sound, starting to shift through the junk and dusted armour. When they had respawned, after the worse aftershocks had left them, they had an anxiety attack, the constant buzzing burning in their ears until they had thrown the small black piece into the bottom of the chest and closed the lid shut, storming outside in search of tranquility.

Now here they stand, searching through the accumulated items with a tight throat, as they grab the humming piece that has been haunting their days for so long. It is surprisingly small for how much anxiety it had caused them. It continues to vibrate as they look it over, and with a deep breath, they power it on.

Instantly, the screen comes to life, and they see the overcrowded profile, multiples private channels so filled in with words, it was set to a permanent +999. They grimaced, and sat down heavily on top of the chest, staring at the communicator. Hesitating, they scrolled through the contacts, a grimace covering their face as they saw just how many people had tried to talk to them. Tommy, Tubbo, Niki were close to the top, and there were even people they hadn’t interacted that much with, like Callahan, Sam, George, even people they hadn't met (Ran… Rambo? Ranbo? Ranboo?? Captain??? Puffy?? They blinked and continued on). 

But the ones that made the anxiety rolling in their stomach worsen were the two top private channels. _Fundy_ , it was in first place, and then followed by _Dream_. They hesitated, finger hovering the fox contact, before scrolling down, ignoring how their heart ached intensely at the mere thought of talking to his once best friend again. The last channel came from Purpled with also over 999+ messages, and trying to prepare themself, they clicked into it, letting the chat open and scrolling up, until they arrived at the first message.

The last message they had exchanged was over them complimenting Purpled’s UFO, the younger one sending back a simple “ty”. The next message was from when they had left the castle, apparently, the blond had come to the building to ask about the cabin and if it was possible for some paths to be constructed to it. The text message was them asking if they were okay, having heard that George had been made king. The following were mostly the same, Purpled asking where they were, if they were okay, until it started decreasing into frequency, until it were sparse messages saying they had found one of their pink wools, talking about how something had reminded him of them, until the very last message; there, it said “ _I hope u r happy dude, rlly miss annoying u in the castle”_.

And so it followed with most of the others, Sam sending them regards and hoping they were alright, Bad’s fretting alongside Skeppy’s fretting for making both him and Bad worried, Callahan mostly sending him jokes with the last message being a simple heart, Quackity cursing them out for leaving, and more and more and more. Captain Puffy’s semi-nostalgic messages where she talked about how different the server was and commenting how their buildings were and telling them how they were taking care of it now, and then Ranboo’s semi cryptic messages, where the newcomer would simply send them what was happening on the server, as if keeping a small diary. 

Niki… Niki’s messages were hard, to go through, apology after apology after apology for having left them behind, for being a bad friend, which… which was absurd, Niki was a great friend, right? She was kind and… and visited them and… They shook their head, not feeling good enough to try and analyze their friendship. She sent them a lot of recipes, as time passed by, and they clearly told something had happened, as the recipes got more and more convoluted or… messy, as if she had forgotten what once came naturally to her.

Tubbo’s weren’t better, the teenager sending them apology after guilt-ridden messages and more and more problems that made Eret’s heart swell in concern. The messages progressed from good to neutral to bad to worse, only making them worry. _“Dream almost killed me to see if I knew where you were”_ , one message read, followed after by a _“I don’t know how you could bare to be in charge”_ and a concerning _“Im very tired eret, i think i get the why now”_ and the last message sent being a _“i'm lonely, i think this will kill me in the end”_ , before what they assumed was the date where they died, where over 100+ spam of messages asking for where they were came. 

Tommy’s words were… Were something for sure, they thought uncomfortably. At first it was only insults, calling them weak, a pussy, a bitch good for nothing traitor, telling how happy he was about them being gone. Then, the insults started to seem more... slightly… concerned. _“If u died that would be so fucking pitiful” “fucking bitch ghosting everyone” “who the fuck do you believe urself to be to fjucking make tubbo worry”_ to _“i hope u came back u bitch” “what the fuck did i say” “fucking come back already”_ and then to a lot of _“YOU FCUKIFN BITCH THIS IS UR FAULT”_ spammed over and over and over. It was from… barely a few weeks ago, and Eret wondered what had caused such abrupt change in the blond.

They sighed and looked outside, noticing how the candle had burnt out and the morning sun was coming in strong from outside. They still had Dream’s and… And Fundy’s chat to go through, but they felt so genuinely exhausted. 

They considered their options, before deciding it was better to simply continue on with their day. They had already read the majority of the backlog anyways, so it didn’t matter if they took a rest, right? Setting carefully the communicator down on top of the lid of the chest, they stretched and yawned, opening the door of the cottage.

There was still work to be done

* * *

  
  
  


It was late at night, when Eret was about to go to bed that they suddenly sprang up as they remembered something.

It had escaped their mind, as they fed Mingo and baked and went to the village for more food to trade and took care of the crops and continued working on their project, but the information had come back suddenly to mind as they were ready to sleep. Techno… Techno hadn’t appeared today. Or yesterday, or before yesterday… Come to think about it, Eret was pretty sure they hadn’t seen the piglin for over 4 days.

They sat up, frowning, and stared at the wall as they tried to organize their messy thoughts. They blinked, as they tried to remember if Techno had told them he wouldn’t come by, but nothing had come to mind. Actually… haven’t they accorded into going to the village for some maps since Techno needed to explore some place and Eret had offered to accompany them yesterday? It… It hadn’t happened, they had gone alone without remembering they were supposed to go with Techno. The maps were even in the bookcase nearby the fireplace, resting in the temporary spot for someone to take it away if they remembered correctly.

Concern started rising in their heart, as they tried to remember if Techno hadn’t actually said anything about not coming or having a project. They usually wrote reminders down, and they got out of the bedroom in almost stumbling steps, walking in the dark towards the kitchen where the reminders and to-do list rested on the wall. They soon reached it, and stared at it, blinking as their exhausted brain tried to comprehend the words written in the paper.

There was nothing about it, and they hummed, one clawed finger tapping against the paper as they tried to think about what to do. They could, possibly, send a message through the communicator, but Techno had told them repeatedly about how bad he was with checking the device, so they discarded the option soon. Plus, they still… they still weren’t comfortable with using the comms, if they had to be honest. Maybe Philza had visited Techno? But it was not very probable, since the piglin player had told them how Phil visited only once per week and a half, and the blond had visited just 2 days before Techno had stopped coming.

Did… Did Techno stop coming because they didn’t have anything for them? They bit at their lips, and started pacing around the kitchen, feet almost dragging into the floor as they thought the idea over. Surely… Surely not? They, they had given Techno some pies the last time they had seen the other, didn’t that count? Back in the SMP everything counted, right? Did… Did Techno need materials and they hadn’t given those? They racked their brain, but the other hadn’t mentioned anything about having a project going on.

They buried a distressed whine that threatened to bubble up their throat, and resorted to tugging at their hair as they tried to think over what could have happened, cold and harsh anxiety curled around their ribs. Techno… Techno wouldn’t have ghosted them, right? No, the piglin would have said something, for sure.

But then… That begged the question, why had Techno stopped visiting? 

Did… Did something happen to Techno, then?

Out of mere principle they wanted to shake the idea off, simply because it was Techno, who was always above everyone, so far away from mere mortals like them. But…, a part of their mind reminded them of the fact that Techno was as human as they were, and suffered the same, remembering those days where they had to help Techno with re-wrapping old injuries that covered his arms. Maybe Techno had fallen injured? But it couldn’t be possible, Techno had told them, or more like boasted, about how practically impenetrable was his armour. And Techno never, _never_ took the netherite off. 

They tugged again at their hair, the hand resting at the end of the long curls, as they forced their almost sleep deprived brain to think more. Could Techno have fallen sick? It… It could be possible, they hummed with furrowed eyebrows, sure, it was beginning to be Summer but the nights were still surprisingly cold and didn’t Techno live in the tundra? The piglin had the bad habit of leaving the windows open everywhere, and while here it wasn’t an issue, they could very easily see how it could be down in the Arctic (As Techno had gained to calling the deep snowy tundra he lived in).

It was a solid theory, if they had to be honest. But, then, that begged the question: What should they do? Techno lived a good four to five hours away on horseback, and it was already night. Should they wait for tomorrow to go visit? Eret… Eret didn’t think they could sleep knowing the other was sick in his house, miserably alone. 

Nodding decisively, they turned and grabbed the basket that was hanging near the entrance. Coming back to the kitchen, they started to store some food. They made bread today, and while it was slightly burned on one side, it was better than nothing to be honest. They paused for a few seconds, before also putting into the basket some honey jars and lemons, to make some tea for Techno. They paused, thinking if Techno could have soup materials, before deciding to not risk it and add some mushroom into the mix. Once satisfied, they grabbed the cape Techno had loaned them, and went outside, grabbing the lantern nearby that they used for travelling during the night, the few times they did it.

Mingo was sleeping, but awoke peacefully, and let them saddle her up, alongside the blanket for the snow they would surely feel once they reached Techno’s biome. They hesitated, for a few seconds, on whether or not grabbing the sword hanging on the stable, before deciding to take the crossbow and quiver of arrows hanging outside. A blade would mean that they would need to be close to the monsters in order to kill them, and Eret would rather avoid any direct confrontation.

Once having the basket secured to the saddle, and the pole where the lantern was hanging was safely gripped, they set off, Mingo trotting through the night as they guided her to the path they had used the last time. They vaguely remembered where Techno’s cabin was, and even if they missed it, it was nearby the underground bunker where the piglin stored all of the horses he had.

The night was surprisingly peaceful, considering it was a moonless one, and the few mobs that did manage to follow them, were quickly dispatched with a couple of bolts from the crossbow hanging from their belt. Mingo had paused in front of where the tundra started, hesitating, before Eret urged her to go on. They could guess that in around half an hour the sun would rise, yet the night still looked as dark as if it were midnight. Looking up, they hummed when seeing the clouded sky; that explained it, huh? 

After a few more minutes of walking in the snow, Eret sighed and doused off the lantern with their fingertips. It was still dark, but Mingo trusted them to guide her and Eret’s night vision was slightly better than a normal player one, their eyes used to the dim lights of the Nether and the almost non-existent of the End.

Everything would have been fine, if not because Eret saw a light dancing in the horizon. They stopped Mingo, and dismounted carefully, squinting to try and see better ahead. They took Mingo’s lead and slowly guided her behind them, watching the light that moved across the snowy plains. They… They didn’t think it was Techno. 

The light was not high enough, considering the snow and the very vague figure they could see, and it only made Eret more wary. Deciding to act quick, they moved Mingo to hide against a small snow hill that covered from sight, and left her tied there for the moment, putting their coat more tight against their body, they started shuffling closer, keeping close to the ground, until there was barely a couple of dozens of blocks keeping the distance between them and the figure. 

It still was dark enough so the other couldn’t see them, having made sure they stayed out of the range of the lanterns the figure carried. The first thing they noticed was that… The figure was small. Or at least, smaller than they were, if they had to be honest. It was the first thing that proved the other wasn’t Techno. And they didn’t see any shape on their back that could signal to wings, so it couldn’t be Philza. 

That meant, whoever was there, wasn’t supposed to be here.

The ever existing anxiety that had been laying inside of them rose sharply, like a coiled snake about to attack, slithering against their chest until it choked around their throat, their heartbeat on their ears like an out of rhythm noise. They crouched lower, and took a look around, heart missing a beat when they saw the lights of Techno’s house in the distance, and how the stranger was angled to look towards the cottage. 

Hands ghosted towards their crossbow, and Eret scowled once they realized they had left the weapon behind with Mingo, in fear of the arrows causing too much noise. The figure was thin, dressed in colors too hard to distinguish in the night, despite Eret’s greater vision. They could clearly tell how much armour the stranger had on, the enchanted netherite still shining softly with the warm light of the lantern held closeby.

There was a stranger. 

Here, on Techno’s Arctic where no one was supposed to know. 

Where only they or Phil knew where it was.

Eret barely took a second to think before turning sharply and running away as quietly as they managed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo, i am once again back. Not really sorry for the lateness because irl stuff happens tbh  
> we are semi-following canon but not really, because canon is a suggestion and i am the stubborn kid who hates any kind of rules or suggestion and sticks to their own ways. Anyways, have radical week *guitar riff* because i am sure as hell barely surviving it *another guitar riff*
> 
> I already have around 1.2k of the next chapter ready, so pray for me to not do an eret and procastinate on it lmao
> 
> *continues to vibe at 0.00000000005% slow*


	8. Come Save Us From Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, it came the sound. It was extremely loud, the sound of a dozen pistons firing at the same time, and Eret stumbled back, as the cliff wall trembled, and it started going down, the stone receding into the ground as a vault opened in front of their eyes. It was dark inside, stone bricks covering all the walls, moss growing between the cracks of the blocks, it felt humid and hot in the air, and they stumbled back once they catched what was exactly hanging on the walls.
> 
> \----------
> 
> Techno is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alt title: God said it's MY turn on the hallucinations
> 
> Og title: Providence, by Poor Man's Poison
> 
> I did not pull an Eret, let's gooooooo
> 
> Content Warning for Descriptions of Panic Attacks

Eret gasped, desperately trying to breathe in, pressed tightly against the snow.

The figure on the other side of the hill was long gone, the footprints marked deep into the snow with each strong step the figure took. Yet, Eret couldn’t find it in them to move, the icy cold having cut through the cape from how pressed they were against the snow. They were shivering, or maybe simply shaking, claws sinking into the snow desperately in search of anything to grasp and try to ground themself, only sinking into cold and nothingness.

Their heartbeat pulsed wildly, like a panicked rabbit, the noise almost deafening in their ears. A whine escaped their mouth, as they curled in the dirt, one hand gripping tightly the clothes over their chest, panting as they tried to breathe. Their chest hurted, as if there were an anvil pressing down on their chest, crushing them against the melting snow under them. It was as if air refused to enter their lungs, tears springing into their eyes as the pain started to ramp up from the lack of breathing, almost writing in the snow like a pathetic downed prey, in shambles by the mere thought of someone else being here, so close the player could discover them. 

They knew, in a distant and logical way, that it was simply them hyperventilating and it would calm down if they tried to breathe deeply, but the panic that filled their veins was overwhelming, turning all logical thought away, leaving them breathless on the floor, as their thoughts went away away and away, until they were grasping at the straws of any logic, the world spinning and feeling like a thousand miles away.

It was horrible, sitting there and struggling to breathe, only because someone had managed to wander into Techno’s tundra. It was such a little thing, and yet, it had been already several minutes and Eret still laid hyperventilating. Their chest hurted, so much, sharp pangs on their lungs as they struggled and struggled to regain their calm. Their hands felt wet, and their eyes stinged from the cold and the tears, one of their hands made into a punch, the claws piercing against the skin and making blood swell up, making everything both under and overwhelming, too many sensations that yet they couldn’t process.

They can see, as they heave and cry, how the black scales of their skin continues to reach up and up in their panic, and they tear the hand over their chest away, kneeling over the snow and pressing both of the hands against it, ignoring the sharp sting where they scratched themself. The last thing they wanted was to wither their clothes, and they heaved, a broken keen torn out of their throat as they closed their eyes and tried to regain their calm. It feels like a useless job, as they gasp and heave, the tears leaving icy cold tracks down their cheeks, shaking too much to even stay up.

It’s between one moment and the other, that Eret is kneeling in the snow and the other where they wake slowly up to the sensation of something warm and wet over their head, an almost painful tugging on the hair. They groan, rolling to the side, squint up, watching how Mingo comes into focus, the horse too busy trying to eat their hair to notice Eret has woken up.

A shaky hand pushes the horse’s head away, and Eret passes a hand through their face, grimacing at the mess on their clothes, the clothes totally wet from laying on the snow. It is unbearably cold, and Eret forces their hands to flex, the fingers stiff and almost painful to move. They stand up, stumbling, one hand in a death grip as it clings to Mingo’s saddle, shivering almost too much to even stay up. It is concerning, considering how Eret was usually more resistant to the temperature, but since they had left the Smp this has been occurring more frequently, if they had to recall correctly. 

At least they can shiver, they think tiredly, as they look around. They are in the same snow hill where they hid Mingo, and they click their tongue, stumbling through the snow towards where they had seen the stranger yesterday. It is clear it snowed, but not enough to cover any tracks, barely even a fraction of an inch of snow. They desperately wanted to check the tracks, to see if the figure had decided to go towards Techno’s house or away.

Yet… 

Yet they stand over the exact same place they were yesterday and watch the intact snow with shock. There is no sign that anyone was ever there, no trace of footstrips, nothing at all. It… It shouldn’t be possible, not in any way or form, and they bite at their lip in worry. Not even the footprints that should be from where they had run, absolutely throwing snow everywhere, was there. It was as if, as if no one was ever there. There was absolutely nothing, no evidence that someone had been there a few hours ago.

That. That can’t be right, for sure? They… They wouldn’t have imagined that yesterday, it simply wasn’t possible. A whine builds up their throat, as they dig their claws into their palms for some sign that this is real. And it is, despite how much they wish otherwise. They even kneel, ignoring how cold the snow feels against their wet clothes, and pat around the snow as if the footprints were covered, but nothing is there. The snow is simply dense, from how it packs when it falls against the ground, and there is no trace of anything under it. They… They can’t have imagined it, right? No, surely not… It, it was simply not possible, right?

They stay there, kneeling, mind both racing and blank, as they try to process what happened. Mingo whines, from where she was left behind, and Eret gasps, stumbling to stand up and taking hurried steps towards the horse, fear thumping like war drums on their chest, leaving behind the scene that makes horror rise from its depths and take residence in their chest, leaving behind a ball of ice settled over their heart, as if constricting it from any movement.

As they drag themself over the saddle and tug at the lead until it is free and spurs Mingo to move towards the cabin, Eret doesn’t turn back, as if trying to not see the evidence, to simply will it away. The sun is almost blinding, already mid way to the center of the sky, against the white snow, and they take a second to mourn not bringing their sunglasses in their hurry to leave the cottage, before squinting and continuing to guide Mingo to the house in the distance, the repetitive movement of Mingo walking soothing away their fears slowly, until it feels as a distant nightmare. 

Maybe it was that, right? A nightmare, nothing more. They had fallen asleep riding Mingo and fell into the snow, that’s what happened. They firmly ignore anything else and stomp down in any insecurities, telling themself firmly that it was simply a Nightmare, to not overanalyze it. It was fine, they were fine. Just a nightmare...

Despite being already day, the lights are all turned on in the cottage, and it makes Eret frown, as they get off the saddle slowly, both tired and cold. They yearn for nothing more but to simply lay down and maybe sleep, in front of a roaring fireplace, but they had an objective coming here and they will finish it. The small nap in the snow at least made some part of the exhaustion slink away, they think drily as they knock at the door of the cottage.

Nothing can be heard from outside, and Eret knocks again, watching with worry the lights that should have been turned off hours before. After the fifth time knocking, Eret tries to open the door, frowning at the jingle of an iron lock. Why is the door locked? They wonder, torn between concern and bemusement, as they continue to try to open it. Techno lives alone, in the middle of nowhere, why would he need to lock his house?

Concern continues to bubble up, as the door continues to stay locked. They peer through the windows, and watch the stillness inside. It is as if it's a snapshot in time, where it goes still and lets you keep a few seconds for yourself only, something out of a distant dream or memory. The fire at the chimney is almost dying, a few brave embers swirling in the air, reaching up in search of anything to burn. There is also a boat nearby, the same where the enderman (Edward, if they remember correctly) is sitting, who vwoops a simple greeting to them when it sees them through the window.

It is clear that Techno isn’t inside the house. The piglin hated to stay quiet or to not move, practically a force of nature from how willful he was to continue on, speaking to the air as if talking to an audience, and moving everywhere, as if the world was a constant race. If Techno were inside the house, the building would be lively, not this almost imitation of a corpse. They frown and turn away from the window, looking around for any clues as to where the piglin could be. 

Even if sick, Techno would have answered, would have said something. So he can’t be inside. That… That doesn’t leave him a lot of options, if they had to be honest. Scrunching up their eyebrows, they slowly guide Mingo to the side and the front of the house, where a small stable should be set up. They stop, in front of it, and tilt their head curious at the sight of the open gates. Did Techno take Carl with him? Did this mean that Techno is currently away in an adventure or exploration? If that's the case, then why did this time he forgot to tell them? Usually Techno never forgot to tell them, it never had happened before. And why is the gate open? Techno always closed the gates or any door, always citing that a mob could get inside and ruin everything as his excuse for a very thinly veiled anxiety over security.

Deep in thought, they guide Mingo inside, and take the bridle and lead off, deciding that Hey!, if Carl isn’t here, then Mingo could stay for now there. They hum, the slow notes hanging in the cold arctic air, as they hang the things on the side, not noticing the sound behind until something nudges at their back.

They jump back, their knee practically crashing against the gates, and they hiss a curse as they hold the knee in pain. They look up, confused as to what startled them, coming face to face to the chest of Carl. This time, when Eret jumps back (no they did not scream, no matter what you may believe. Absolutely not, nah, never, simply no, if you did believe that then you are wrong!) they fall onto the dirt, barely covered in snow thanks to the roof and in consequence, nothing to soften their fall.

“Fuck!” They yelp, scrambling back as Carl tries to approach them. “Fuck, fuck, shit”

Of course it would be their luck to simply get here when the terrifying horse was loose. Of course, because simply what can’t go wrong. 

They stand behind one of the fences of the stable, semi-hidden by the dark wood, as they peer nervously at the tall animal. Carl snorts, tossing its head wildly from side to side, as if mocking them for their reaction. They pause, squinting as they observe the horse proceed to greet Mingo in the stable. The mane, which is normally shiny and religiously braided, it’s tangled and limp, soot covering patches of the hair even. Carl has his saddle on, but it isn’t adjusted, the saddle starting to fall to the side. The animal is also not wearing a bridle, all tiny details that paint a picture Eret isn't sure they liked.

Techno took good care of Carl, even despite how much he said he didn’t like the horse, he took care of it religiously, spending almost hours to make sure Carl was satisfied and well groomed, no matter the weather or circumstances. Techno prided himself in being a good owner, and it wasn’t like him to simply… let Carl roam free like this.

They jumped back a little, when Carl turned to look at them, and silently cringed at the scratch of the floor the horse did with its hooves, watching with apprehension the deep marks in the dirt that were left behind on the wooden boards that weren’t covered by snow. The animal looked… impatient, so to say, tossing its head back and scratching at the floor, all while holding direct eye contact with them. Eret would like to say they aren’t intimidated easily, but Techno’s horses are another matter altogether. Plus, normally Eret could either avoid what intimidated them or simply wither it, but these were literally the horses Techno had selectively bred and cared for, so it was a literal no on the killing part and, these were Techno’s horses, so they would always have to interact with them. They lived too far away for Techno to not use the animals.

“Hey…” They said lamely, voice cracking when the horse snorted angrily “Carl… hey”

The horse kept pawning at the floor, impatient, pacing at the edge of the stable as if waiting for Eret to make up their mind. They couldn’t think of any reason why the horse could be so agitated, despite how terrified they were of it, the animal normally simply ignored them and was calm, never kicking any fuss like now. They bite their lip worried, hands gripping tightly the fence as they try to think of what to do.

“Carl!” They call, barely burying a whine of distress at the way the horse kicked up its head to look at them straight in the eye “Oh Aether’s I’m talking to a horse… Uh… Calm down?”

The animal snorted, and suddenly walked forward, opening its mouth and biting their sleeve, ignoring Eret’s scared yelp, and started tugging insistently at it. They were torn between trying to simply run away or stay still, in vain hopes that the horse would simply get tired and let them be. Unsurprisingly, because the animal is just like his owner, it kept tugging and tugging until, seemingly too annoyed, nudged them so strongly with its head that Eret almost fell off. 

As if discovering a newfound secret, delighted, Carl started dragging Eret away, ignoring their loud complaints, the hybrid not knowing how to react. While they were tall, the horse was both taller, and probably also stronger. They had seen the animal cave in the skull’s of the mobs with one swift kick, and they weren’t keen on trying to experience that. The animal looked tense, ears pinned back, as it shoved him forward, uncaring of how deep the snow got, leading them towards the side of the cabin.

There were some very faint footprints on the snow, as if someone had been dragged through here, but the snow was starting to slowly cover it up. Remembering the nightmare they had, Eret hesitates, a small oof escaping their mouth at the next shove they got from Carl, debating internally very strongly before giving up and keeping a shaky hand on Carl’s head, to stop it from pushing them. As if understanding that it had gotten its objective, the horse whines delighted and noses at their pockets, still intent on continuing forward. With one hand shakily resting on the animal’s head, Eret advances, keeping wide open eyes as they examine what is around.

Towards the back of the house wasn’t much, just a semi frozen pond towards where they could see smoke rising from the distance (the tundra village, they thought to themselves, filling away the information for later), and then there was a stretch passway between the two mountains that surrounded the plains. They let Carl guide them towards it, looking in wonder at the tall stone cliff that raised up, the walls covered in snow and ice, leaving a small place to pass through. After it there was simply another snowy plain, with small hills spread sporadically through it. Confused, they turned to look at Carl, wondering why the horse was so determined in showing them this.

But the horse was looking specifically at the back of the mountain, ears pinned back and tail swishing violently from side to side in such a nervous manner it startled Eret. Sighing, and hoping they weren’t about to die, they went towards the back of the mountain, watching the almost smooth cliff that conformed the back. They couldn’t see what could be wrong with it, and the tracks had basically disappeared as the snow was more compact towards here. Looking around. Eret saw something weird from the corner of their eyes. Turning around, they looked towards a small pile of rocks, where one rock standed out amongst the rest.

It looked way too smooth and shiny, and they picked it up curious, noticing how light it felt. Turning it around in their hands, Eret examined it closely, specifically the back where a small part of the stone protruded back. It was… A button. A Stone button, to be exact. But why was a stone button around here? Would this have to do with Techno’s strange disappearance? They grimaced and looked around, searching for the small hole where the button should connect. They cleaned off the small pile of rocks off the edge of the stone and carefully examined it, passing their hands through it in search of the small hole where the stone button would fit.

Finding a small gap between some stones, Eret carefully laid it inside, and pressed down, hearing a satisfying click resonate through. At first it was silence, and they wondered if maybe they had gotten the wrong crevice.

Then, it came the sound. It was extremely loud, the sound of a dozen pistons firing at the same time, and Eret stumbled back, as the cliff wall trembled, and it started going down, the stone receding into the ground as a vault opened in front of their eyes. It was dark inside, stone bricks covering all the walls, moss growing between the cracks of the blocks, it felt humid and hot in the air, and they stumbled back once they catched what was exactly hanging on the walls. It was wither skulls, covering all of the back wall, the soot of the skeleton staining where it was perched, slowly floating to the ground as the hidden door finally settled into the floor. They could almost taste the whispers, the soul sand that was shoved in the back asking to be used, to let the trapped souls take revenge and use the skulls of the skeletons to reign terror over the Overworld.

But it all fell into the background once they saw what was laying on the floor.

Without a single thought, they ran inside, cursing loudly as they carefully turned Techno’s body to the side, the piglin looked oddly small as he laid curled in the floor, panic hammering in their chest as they delicately pressed a finger against the other’s neck. A total silence ringed, growing more and more oppressive, pressing them down to the floor as they waited with baited breath, until finally, finally, a faint  _ thump-thump _ resonated. Relief flooded their veins, but they instantly jumped into action, muscle memory guiding them to slowly pat around Techno’s body in search of any wound, the medical training kicking in as they examined the piglin. 

There wasn’t any visible wound, at least that they could see, but the other felt very cold, and the skin was worryingly pale, the normally healthy pink almost faded, letting the darker pink spots of the skin stand out. Techno was completely covered in soot and ash, the characteristic smell of Nether hanging strongly on the other, almost making them grimace. The clothes were also stained, and slightly burned off, probably from either fighting blazes or Magma cubes. They bite their lip in worry, as they thought of what to do.

They were hesitant in moving Techno, since they didn’t know if the other had any internal injury that could potentially get worse if moved, but they couldn’t let Techno stay here, the cold of the tundra was rapidly seeping into the room, and the piglin was resting on a small puddle of melted snow, probably that had been brought inside when he entered the secret place.

Jumping up, they searched the chests littered around for any wood, making a small and improvised sleigh and brought it next to Techno’s side. Untying the red cloak of the other, they stretched it out as best as they could from under the body, and, taking a breath in to calm themself, they carefully lifted one side and brought it over the sleigh, doing the same with the other’s lower body, until the piglin rested comfortable on top of the wooden sleigh. Tying into the sides one lead they found lying around, they went for Carl, the horse waiting outside nervously, pacing in the snow.

It took a little, mostly for Eret to not flinch away each time the horse approached, but soon the animal had the lead tied into the saddle, which Eret had carefully and shakily adjusted. They sit on the sleigh, to mostly keep Techno from moving too much, fear of worsening any internal injury far stronger than they wanted to admit. Once outside they’re about to let Carl take them toward the cabin before, as an afterthought, making sure to close the vault, not paying any attention to the insides, as they turn and go back to Techno, the piglin their first priority.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it still felt eternally, in the rocky sleigh as they carefully made sure Techno wasn’t too jostled around. Soon the cabin came into view, and they untied the lead, letting Carl step into the stable with Mingo, while they stood in front of the door and tried to think of what to do.

The lock was still standing firm, and while searching Techno for any injury, they hadn't found any key on his pockets, so they tried to think what to do. Panic still thrums in their veins, slightly more calm but now firmly entwined with worry, and giving up, they go to the sleigh and grab Techno’s sword, all of the piglin’s weapons having been brought with them just in case they needed to defend themself. The weapon is heavy, the enchantments so strong it almost made their teeth vibrate from the intensity of the magic shoved within the weapon. 

The tip was thin and little, and letting experience guide their hands, they shoved it in the key hole, jamming it up and then down, grabbing one of the smaller daggers that the piglin had to put it underside the sword’s blade, jiggling until with a forceful shove, the lock gave away with a sharp click, the door opening ajar with the smallest of strength. Satisfied, they threw the weapons inside, uncaring of where it laid, and carefully dragged the sleigh up the stairs to the inside, while Techno had put doors on both the first and second floor, the first only had storage and they remembered clearly the second floor having all of the brewing stands and important materials.

Ducking under the doorway, they came inside, the air was stuffy, but thankfully warm, and they dragged Techno to the center of the room, grabbing some logs out of the basket near the fireplace and throwing the lumber inside the dying fire. Once the fire took hold and started to grow, did they go back, searching through the chests in search of any potions, a bucket of water and some rags.

Kneeling close to Techno they sighed, and started to carefully take off the coat, rolling back the sleeves and cringing at the amount of bruises the arms had, thankful that most of what had gotten wet had been the coat and the lower half of the pants. There wasn’t anything major, or so they thought, until they came across the wounds on the inner elbow, the injury ragged from probably a dulled weapon, the veins pulsating dark, the skin pale around the nasty looking bruise. It was a tell-tale of a Wither Skeleton injury, and they grimaced, starting to clean off the wound. At least Techno had some good sense of throwing something in it, tracing the mostly healed edges. It wasn’t too threatening, fortunately, otherwise the wound would have been in a major stage of necrosis. It simply looked bad, and that was a relief. Techno would only suffer some major fever and be sick for a few days, from not totally curing the whole injury, but it was better than the alternative.

In general, Techno was fine if not for the otherwise half-cured wound and burns littering his body, and how pale he looked. The eyes had deep bags, and he looked… thin, almost sick, come to think about it. With a huff, they took a strength and healing potion, and diluted them to half a quarter of its original concentration, pouring them together and then corking the glass bottle, shaking it softly until it had a pale color. They, very carefully, lifted Techno’s head and fed him half the bottle. It would help with the major of the effects the piglin was sure to be going through. Taking hold of the dagger that they had thrown, they cutted whatever part of the clothes that was too wet, the pants reduced to almost the knee, and the shirt’s sleeves cutted a little before the elbow. 

Once satisfied, they took a mattress that was stored in one of the chests and dragged it near the fireplace, putting as many blankets and pillows they could find before carefully putting Techno in the half made bed, covering his barely shaking frame in blankets. Pouring the rest of the diluted potion in a rag, they let it over the piglin’s forehead, to let the rest of the potion be absorbed through the skin, not wanting to overwhelm the other’s system with too much potion. 

Once everything that could be done was done, they sat heavily down on the nearby chair and shakily breathed in and out, hoping the tremble of their hands would leave for once. How long had been Techno laying there, in the cold with no one to know? If Eret hadn’t bothered to come to check on him, where would the Piglin be? While his injuries weren’t life threatening, the symptoms could have easily made him suffer through hell and back if he had stayed alone there. And Techno looked too tired, too thin, the fur matted and dirty, and it made them think that if Techno had stayed alone, they probably wouldn’t have seen the piglin in a very long time. He looked… so human, Eret thought saddened, watching the slow rise of the other’s chest, the normally eternal frown or blank face now slightly relaxed, the shoulders dropped, the expression smooth if not for the almost pinched corner of his eyebrows at the discomfort he was probably going through.

The mere thought of Techno alone, miserable on the floor of that secret room, sweating and trembling, with no one to help him made them almost choke, a heavy lump on their throat. Leaning back, they brushed back some of the dirty fur of Techno’s head and sighed. They stayed like that, carefully watching the other, with potions and cold rags at the ready for the fever, the trembling, the shakiness in general of their friend. They sat in silence and waited, until night fell and the moon slowly rose through the skies, moving from their chair only to grab something small to eat before coming back.

It was silent outside in the tundra, as Eret sat in vigil besides Techno’s bedside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bought myself a chewable necklace bc it seemed pog and it hasn't arrived yet.... *lays down on the floor and takes a heart locket out of my pocket* Chewey necklace, my beloved....
> 
> Also big thanks to SimpSupreme and Egare, the first for telling me how horses work and the second bc he always listens to my frantic rambles of cottagecore eret <3

**Author's Note:**

> As always my tumblr is @villruu and my twt @vrillru, i sometimes talk about my fics lol
> 
> Also, AO3 statistics show that only a small percentage of you leave kudos, comments and bookmarks, so if you could do them, i would appreciate it a lot. It really helps the story out, and you can always eliminate them later. And if you like my stuff, i have written some more fics (mostly techno-centric/sbi-centric lol)


End file.
